Often a magic key or sets of those unlocking instruments are an imagined tool to escape—to find—to prevail and to become again lost in secret recesses—accesses known only to a favorite few or in the plain-view of everyone. There are so many secrets discovered and so little time for those secret solutions. And! The way to hearts is always through hearts.
Keys are for the gate or the vault or the power over everything or underneath ever day. These bits of magic are always certain and almost—mostly remain undiscovered. On somewhere worlds of somewhere places keys of several plus two bring together and combine to open portals of sometime space to those able to find those magic tools.
Open now the valves of hearts before the ending winds of fantasy and miracle crafts of ancient presents start the sound and close the jeweled reminding remainders of once was and will again be—behind this closet space and scattered among the norms of whimsy. Combine the key of blood across a place knowing the unknown knowledge and uncertainty of places developed—forgotten and reminded as ancient sketches text ruins of things and times to remember.
We did not find ourselves within swirls of gold and pebbles of purple stones. We touch beneath the blue of sky before clouds reasoned our reason for running toward our cave of gray rocks and soft dirt. We touch blood-love dry from rain and warmed away from wind howl and storm. A key of warm blood and heart surge and the air of together gate and through a portal into forever—ever place.
Key then we and we are—before the rain and after the mystic portions of storm and war and wind and rain and gain and pain and the losses of yesterday’s mystical memories inside today. Across a world of life the same blood moves and time exists only in those carrying the sweetness of a nothing concept or a notion of not this moment. Time is never-key. No time are magic keys of forever places and spaces between raindrops and years-to-end.
Solar Lighting begins late in the evening sky and continues through the following weeks; first scorching the million-acre-land around Calimesa City and ultimately damaging the domes of cover across the skies above those made at home. Life ends and life begins. A different life also creates-stop-start inside several thousand—where water begins and evaporates.
Rulers gather and die. The death of middle worlders on surface is many and rarely varied. A renewal of the hidden memories of power in times of sorrow and danger and fear prevail. Wealth again moves and poverty descends from above the sunlight and below the ground levels of cave dwellers and their children.
Across spaces of lighted atmosphere and spaces absent of everything except views above and across an angled galaxy, war of rearranged arrangements begin and end in victories and losses. Some obtain more of less and some lose everything to those others dwelling above these spaces and below this ground—stretched places of caves and cave-ins and areas where life hides from death and awaits the end of silent lightning and the reaches of flash.
Once again upon these skies, a spinning whirl of land and seas of salt and lakes of salt less liquid, warriors stage the wars of rearranged arrangements and wealth distributes where the winners rejoice and the losers lament. The dead are discarded beneath the soiled blood and inside rocky renditions of those of victories in death and legend. Quickly forgotten are the response of battle and the rhymes that end with hunger and rearranged arrangements.
For these days of peace remember pleasant moments of above ground splendor and days of night and night of days as knights begin an uncertain dance of daze. Swords and shields never rust and the lightning of solar ruins again gather in place of suns and along a galactic twirl of swirling earth filled with the salt of sea and the breaking winter waves along the shorelines of a billion lakes without salt and filled with many lights of star sparkle and life.
These are the days of women and men and children and reaffirmation and survival’s rearranged arrangements and offerings. These are creators of ways and means and love and care in heart shaped reasons and certainty. The responsibility of these creations are moments before another war and the death of songs forgotten from those last days battled when reasons were few yet responses necessary. Always…Rearranged arrangements? Blood feeds the form and those forms cease flesh without it? Let it be written so let it…