I landed in a perfect storm in the middle of a rainbow field when I was the color of static snow. Of course my color is static snow. I took the risk in order to gain the advantage. And sometimes that means showing up like that in a place like this. Where the building blocks are thoughts run a muck and there's nowhere to go but up, and then down, so much further down. All the way to and through the ground.
I swear I was up above it all. The depth surrounds and consumes the ones who got sucked in. In got sucked in. Fast. I liked it. Shaking, shivering as the land pulsed beneath my receiving body of water. Fingertips write fire songs on my soul, my soul quenches the thirst of the brush, strokes waiting to deliver craved balance. Catches light flowing down yellow rivers that carry energy back to the banks of rainbow fields, dissolves the static flow and fills in the spaces - pillars sprout up and grow out into magnificent reflections of their creator, rewriting old stories in orange paint like it was the first time.
The secret language of bubbles dances on the tongues entwined in that familiar celebration of color. Nothing makes sense taken out of context and the circles straighten me out, just like they always have. And maybe I'm all messed up. Went left instead of right. Then straight back to the center guided by the white arrows that know just how to bring me back- back to the front. Back to the moment. Back to the heartbeat beat beat. Shaken back to life. And then up up and away. The stories cross the help the suns set a hundred times in a hundred unknown ways. These bits of land catch my feet walking in the directions of the medicine that carries and holds me.
The end of Sumer brightens the canvas, making way for the fall of change to ignite the webs of creation... leaving behind the marks of renewal. The truth resides there, at the bottom of everything, above and below the layers upon layers of imagining, realizing and standing perfect and still in the middle of his rainbow field.
I swear I was up above it all. The depth surrounds and consumes the ones who got sucked in. In got sucked in. Fast. I liked it. Shaking, shivering as the land pulsed beneath my receiving body of water. Fingertips write fire songs on my soul, my soul quenches the thirst of the brush, strokes waiting to deliver craved balance. Catches light flowing down yellow rivers that carry energy back to the banks of rainbow fields, dissolves the static flow and fills in the spaces - pillars sprout up and grow out into magnificent reflections of their creator, rewriting old stories in orange paint like it was the first time.
The secret language of bubbles dances on the tongues entwined in that familiar celebration of color. Nothing makes sense taken out of context and the circles straighten me out, just like they always have. And maybe I'm all messed up. Went left instead of right. Then straight back to the center guided by the white arrows that know just how to bring me back- back to the front. Back to the moment. Back to the heartbeat beat beat. Shaken back to life. And then up up and away. The stories cross the help the suns set a hundred times in a hundred unknown ways. These bits of land catch my feet walking in the directions of the medicine that carries and holds me.
The end of Sumer brightens the canvas, making way for the fall of change to ignite the webs of creation... leaving behind the marks of renewal. The truth resides there, at the bottom of everything, above and below the layers upon layers of imagining, realizing and standing perfect and still in the middle of his rainbow field.
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