Kaleidoscope Memory

Through the target and the satchel, One breathes ( life ) repeatedly.

A cucumber,

an oxygen tank,

a sea star,

a moon rock.

Cry.

Cry out.

Cry out with.

Cry out with ( life ).

Cry out with ( life ) together.

Can tomorrow see forward or yesterday see now?

The blinking lightbulbs sound their greeting to the midnight bees
That enter through the open door in your eyes.

From where do we narrow our blind inhibitions?

The latte leaf and the silver stun gun whisper of salvation,
but the saint in my pocket called them liars.

Through the smoke of our soul fires we find the night sky–

Shimmering

Simmering

Sitting erect hunger memory.
{with} [and]
For what we call ending was never the end we thought,
But rather, the beginning of things.


Did the Spirit hover over the formless waters in the void before the Light?
Or did the darkness cover the Light already burning in your eyes?

We always search for
the answers
to the riddle,


or the fork
in the teardrops,

or the direction
to the target

or the need
for the satchel

or the meaning of

a cucumber,

an oxygen tank,

a sea star,

a moon rock.

For these things which we carry,

Carry themselves dignity.
{With}


Carry us grace.
{With}





Things we aim for.
Things we fight for.
Things we pray for,
Things we grieve for.


The young man's folly was
the wisdom for the ages.


The great oak seeks solace
~in~
the desk lamp's pale glow
In the evening shallow [and] the morning slim.


~through~
The <ARROW> finds its its stumbles and its fumbles,
( home )


The <TRAVELER> finds his ~under~ the vast, fiery panorama,
( hope )


And the seedlings of the oaks,
the elements of the earth,
the seas and galaxies
and the very dust of the stars

~!play along!~

To the rhythm of the great song of
( LOVE ) -



~The mysteries of the universe dance in the kaleidoscope of His memory.~