Show Time

 

I wish thee could see the spaces before me. The change in the pace, the loops and the noise the rhythms of the terrain.

Weirding Way

 

The beginning of the old year is here, the star is lit, a sweet beacon in the night. The squirrels play in the naked trees and dead leaves in between foraging while the song birds whistle whilst they flutter about. A shower flies above on a waxing moon night.

Then she used her voice.

Erev Rav

 

“Correlation doesn’t mean causation” thoughts they put in the air are what I gather this to be most of the time when the rhythm is all through the air. 

This new moon on us the days to grow again soon, we move forward in a direction set forth many days ago. Where truth be told and the old becomes the new.

Many little red cardinals made, cone upon their heads. Where all the languages meet pigeonholes of thought.

The snake coiled around the poll dropped in the dead of night.

Vulcans that can feel your mind process your being as it feeds into you.

Be still and listen

One day I will tell you a story

I have 3 minutes, I have so much to say, ד there is chill in the air, one, I can’t believe people fall for the prosperity preachers.

Filters in the Air

 

Sit with me for a moment while I show you my thoughts through crystals of time, the why and the blame.

As they watch the sun glows in my eyes and the moon calendars still and alive.

The ignorance of history, terrain, religious and of the why, the school system and subversive leaders, regular normal people wanting more, more, more.

Am I glad to see people finally come to the wakening or do I find it frightening? Two things can be true at once. 

One of my heroes, Jesus, who was not God but preached the ways, carried a sword even before the caliphates rose. I over heard a talking head on a screen say, "We go where the terrorists are." It was in reference to Syria, I almost laughed out loud as I recalled the neighbor that would turn in neighbor for not wearing a mask, outside, scared of death and breath. I recalled the governors of city states decree how many families could gather for the holydays. I recall a moment when families wouldn't gather for a celebration because some there wouldn't vaccinate them selves from a man made virus created by the people that made the man made virus. I recall families split apart as churches changed their ways radically against the will of Gods commands. Men flouncing around in women’s sacred spaces. So I went to the old rivers and stones and prayed, as my life waters fell from my eyes in sadness of what man kind had become.  

Be still and listen

One day I will tell you a story

Death stepped from the river, her body soft and pale, ashes to ashes for others, knowledge of life eternal for some. 

Dear man kind,  

The desert sands spin, the drum beats pin the air, the song of time filters through the ears.

Old Father Time

 

The winter equinox is almost upon us, December 21. The cold snaps and crystals float in what looks like clear air to some.

A tourist of this world, where past present and future are one; where time matters and doesn’t.

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell a story

It’s a pitch thing.

Sometimes These Moments Happen

 

It was sometime in the past when the world was set to spin that the Cardinals draped in bright red their feet claimed atop the steeple, the doves hecked and pecked below.

Then on to a bench a glide to the right the draped in bright red. 

There was a brisk dry nip to the air. 

Shimmers of The Past

 

The sound of the ‘bracrack-k-k!’ ‘bra rack-k-k!’ Would hang in the air most days and then it would stop. This time it didn’t stop and then the grounds green and air a pale gray blue started to quiver as the earth rumbled.

The cloud thick of people and dust from a far grew nearer and larger as they looked down from their mountain top paradise. 

We are a few weeks away till the year 2026 arrives. Much happening till then. For the record keeping I’d like to say there was a car jacking the other day around the parts I flounce in and about, then on the road, only two lanes then into a ditch you fall, a man sitting on a stool, bag by his side, his jet black hair in mid growth twisted, without a care planted half in the way. 

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell you a story 

Shadows of the past are shimmering as I watch.

December 2025

 

December fourth, twenty twenty five.

The future is up in the air and if you want you can grab on to it, it’s right in front of you. The clouds sometimes cover the moon at night but the sun shines strongly still.

Be still and listen

One day I will tell you a story

Beginnings are just starting