“You live in a church
Where you sleep with voodoo dolls
And you won’t give up the search
For the ghosts in the halls
You wear sandals in the snow
And a smile that won’t wash away
Can you look out the window
Without your shadow getting in the way?

You’re so beautiful
With an edge and charm
But so careful
When I’m in your arms

‘Cause you’re working
Building a mystery
Holding on and holding it in
Yeah you’re working
Building a mystery
And choosing so carefully”…Sarah McLachlan

Teach-speak now and explain a celestial giggle-wiggle as slashes and dashes or dots and lots are only heard and never seen. Star-ships! Have been ‘round about this interstellar gash and back again. Seek-the-safety-keep without that numbered sleep and twin-spin hieroglyphic’s deep—into poetic speak that trance and dance to learn to turn and to almost burn again. Vacuum’s void avoids an empty space as often counting does come alive, to sum that dust-of-many particles, that swirl and twirl into shape and into mass from nothing-into-something then into unseen not seen and ‘never was’ or will ever-be again.

Star-ships start slowly, move-motion straight lined from safety slot tucks of home port to gentle slides and simple rides. This year’s light-race-space outbound-to-leave blow leaf reach and careful teach that travels’ dust rush touches light winds riding shores from here-to-there and everywhere. Skies beneath the far above when heaven’s cross winds with light’s speed fast or lesser sails are ‘star-bright or star-light down Nebraska’s highway sky-way before dawn’s misty arcs or Denver’s distance and night-light.

Lengths and tangled notes, brine soaks and rotted ropes. Twists! Candy-cane twines sans white-reds color dead from baked suns’ times and sea-salt’s rhythm and rhyme over and under sun’s shine. Sometimes the timing of dancing words, seashells and wind may dust shorelines rhyme. Sometimes! V-shape flights, great shadows bound northward toward stops and starts and the marshes of Horicon and then again until touchdown is home. And! Great ships—straight line from dock-safety-to-sea-tide-high-be and free bound south toward sea-wide reach below right beach and around the African Horn or into the Orinoco Flow.

Again, to be and to see! Love-the-loving of hands joined-to-body and dance. Of swings and wings and peaceful sighs and spirit sings. Through creations the Witches smile and for instants within this moment in time—‘tis’ good this loving rhyme. So! Follow this time—this twine re-wind.

Scorpion shapes and Physics makes, common reach and teach through uncommon words, and the boundless twists of honest computation and manipulation contrived to derive, common wisps-of-wisdom, extracted and reacted and contacted; then, rejected and projected with twists forever turns to be melded into simple sense and corrected logic. Paradigm shatters and whispers matters while sails and ships of storm’s tatters, up righted-ignited-provided-decided and once-fears now tears along with seed sowing acknowledge knowing and either real or almost correctly forgotten and then remembered.

Sunshine’s understanding of Star-ship’s search; deeply goes, inside heated globes round sources of death-life and life-death and gravity and things-holding-wings and globes of mother-ships, many times ‘cross Universes both small and great together, combined with magic glue and crystal twirls and Witches’ swirls. And! Equations’ speak concisely; from clutter squeak, to quantitative modes, derived and survived together with fury storms and qualitative norms. Ponder ways-and-means often, long before android notions mediate the distances with perceptions; laced biochemically, senses five to teach six-seven-or eight and reach, hand stretch inside sunlight’s core, not to feel the burn but just-to-learn.

Lives gather together and the strengths of one or two or many more than them or us or we be power of scatters no rules followed no moral folly or man and the fools of Gods’ squeak. For those ‘world words’ are songs of death of control of fiction to swiftly suffer lies, against spirit speak and Life. Women Love! Men Love! Love is perfection and touch and peace and spirit and song. Love is sweetness ‘gainst canvas and lines. Circles dance and soft songs play and—laughter reaches diners’ corner. Open doors are calls to come inside. Secrets of ink motions and canvas wet with colors. Scents of orange of green of blues and browns and yellow are perfumes inside night air and dare and wear and fare or; future moments, again without layers of walls climbed or discarded. And yes! With you—I do ‘taste beauty.’

Again, to be and to see! Love-the-loving of hands joined-to-body and dance. Of swings and wings and peaceful sighs and spirit sings. Through creations the Witches smile and for instants within this moment in time—‘tis’ good this loving rhyme. So! Follow this time—this twine re-wind.

 And! Beautiful you are…

‘What I Am’ —Edie Brickell & New Bohemians

‘Building A Mystery’— Sarah McLachlan