barren field snow filled knowing flowing down the cold river never seen a boat so rowing melting dreaming remembering going. .
what you think makes you feel the way you do experience is the movie camera life plays projecting through our eyes admit one.
without drama little would be written no happy light without painful darkness falling in the garden of life and death flowers wilt and die new ones sprout along side all was created from nothing all will return.
being unloved and unknown has golden glitter no one hurts when you are gone memory of you goes with the wind blown away like the obituary page of a newspaper into the beautiful cactus filled desert the red sun descends with dark silver lined clouds and bright stars switched on as I cease to exist.
point of origin thoughts we knew steeped in hallow flow and dew dipping wings unknown in mood peaceful doves sip vengeful brew beautiful vultures devour kingdoms water falls through eyes of wisdom.
I am black through graveyard grasses sound tapping on grave stone markers sneakered feet never touch ground wailing cold wind whispers my name owls hoot beautiful golden glowing eyes perch above below in the night I run. .
Is it our ears who hear, but not our soul? listen closely to the bird singing with all your inner being for nature's subtlety takes flight and will never stay still.
everything evolved from within the stillness inside what I believe must be the house of God.
In the morning I look out my window and everything is still there like it was the day before. it is with this predictability that when I look out to the blackened sky on a starry night I know God must be out there, somewhere.
I have told you I walk into my sanctuary there, I see the birds, flowers, grass, a tree and vines growing up my block wall all these, God's children, at play in his garden.