March 9, 2006

• What of metaphors and their value in this time?  What of nothing that sparkles and shines?  A sprig of grass, the morning dew.  What of metaphors that sing of blue.  The color, the sound, the vibration of whole.  What of metaphors falling to the ground and creeping back up through the fog.  Something old, something new.  Something borrowed.  Remember blue.  Calm, not sad.  Bold not bad.  Warm and dignified.  True.

   

  I AM not impressed with fool's gold, but it is of the Earth and for that I must honor it's energy.  I gather it in small piles and leave it in the sun to shine.  It sparkles true.  Not worth a dime or nickel of truth on this earthly view.  Another realm, a billion times, not a penny of thought or token of true.  Take it, shake it, swim in the illusion of dust.  Not gold, or silver or rust.  Trust.  Shine on, twinkle, sprinkle true.   I haven't a thing to ask of you.  You haven't a thing to prove.  Find your groove, then claw your way out.  It does not suit you.  Brilliance, now that is all you need to know.  Brilliance that radiates deep inside of you.  Choose it.  That's all.  Choose it, or go back to the black, battered hue you let define you.  You know your way around and can wait there until you are in the ground.  Buried.  Cold and scared with your back to the light.  White, bright brilliant blue.  Oh boo hoo.  Nobody will care if you don't.  It's easy too.

   

  We BEcome what we think about.

   

  I'm thinking shiny, ice cream drops dangling from golden locks of a summer tune lost in June.

   

   

   

   

   

  None of this was ever meant to make any sense, so stop trying to figure it out.

  • 11:12 am
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