Fingertip Stories…

It is the duty of us all to ensure that our society remain one of which we are proud, not a society wary of immigrants and intent on their expulsion or a society that disputes the welfare state or a society in which the media are controlled by the wealthy. We would oppose such things were we true heirs to the National Council of the Resistance.”— By Stephane Hessel

We are émigrés of this sphere. In a blaze of mystery or notions or nicks or knacks or reasons or rhymes, we move through time and place and home and toward one-to-another. We are the directors ‘blood of red’ same air and the singers of fictional truths drawn by spirits same and the dreamers of courage and the chance of hopes. We are the past, the present and the days of future gambols. We are the virtuosity Gods!  We are life, all growing and all walking and all crawling and all swimming. We are Life; perfect and unstoppable. And! It is always better to fall in love than to fall in battle!

‘The young man goes out looking for the diamond in the sea
the old man rows his boat to shore and falls with twisted knees

And you’ll drown before the water lets you in
Yeah, you drown before the water lets you in

The feeling that I feel the most is the one that follows me
all across the starry coast from sea to diamond sea

Says you’ll drown before the water lets you in
Yeah, you drown before the water lets you in

I think the thing I wanted most was just never meant to be
a thousand waves, a thousand ghosts their sorrows follow me

And you’ll drown before the water lets you in
Yeah, you drown before the water lets you in’…
“The Water Lets You In”by Book Of Fears

These are the salty ways of salted seas and flecks of foam scatter along shore-sided shifts of sand from wet to dry and dune rise above and beyond watered edges before ruined boardwalks remind nothing of something once savored and watched and known by forgotten ones—once upright writers of the times and the sounds of ‘days of a future’s past.’ Still! We all cross spaces along these places of the races in time gathered and night ships crossing heaven’s ragged ridges…

Lights at the end of the world. Now! See those lights across these thousand worlds—welcome home to places you have started and places to begin again or again or on another day’s end and another night’s beginning. Drums to market those marks of time we call our own as heart beats begin again and ticks for a while of wills, coming around the corners of spaces in places seen or forgotten or found once for many crossings of spaces and races and time.

Steel Riders pause by waterside as tides of water kiss shoreline’s wavelength along with one hundred sounds and as gulls ride the dips of above and around piers of ruined wood and splintered ages where once the seaside existed and tide changes mattered to boat anchored and ships sailing against the evening lines. The water’s edge and the skies of blue and pink and red and orange and yellow turn as earth spins sets sunlight to softness and twinkles of sky lighted canvas sheets the blue gray into darkness and stars light the sailor’s way along the caverns of space and place and the race of time.

Entity Religion is in constant enmity with one another? Satirizes self-contented morality and suggests that in the end all religious groups are going to engage in violent and selfish acts regardless of their professed moral teachings. Just another Government and ‘governing whimsy’ is corrupt, nasty and destructive. Religions’ immaculate contortions, ‘American Style’ twist in-out of ‘the Separation of Church and State’ producing a ‘Governmental Right to Legislate Morality?  Wrong! For only Lovers-have-Lovers’-sacred-right-to-Love. Love is being! Morality is a selfish word…

Portion-for-us and scatter across understanding, simplicity and the variances in relativity either linguistically determined or silenced by rain loud along with gentle beginnings or the whispers of fire-fly wings and lighting. Wait! Eyes closed and listen to the thunder rolling ‘cross separated skies as unseen flashes knight the ocean and crash booms into that silent space between raindrops and life. Science eternally dances with superstition. Once and often either momentarily wins something-of-else or another choice-to-follow. Crossroads to matter, chances to spark and destiny always flirts with other, up-and-about or perhaps.

Real Sea, we will see and another and another; of water-ships up, and places far away. This is here and between landings another beach to reach quickly discovered then thrown away. Dragging the lines of surf’s fall and rise as waves dash high into moonless sky and crash along miles of sand and shoreline. Sea inhale and exhale and breathe again and time marks nothing when endless and everlasting. So! Forever ‘surf’s up’ on the eternal sea, so alive and just for me!

And! Beautiful you are…

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