Thousands of missives per day
A denial of life attack
A sustained black mirror event
And we’re the target bent;
Bent to their will
Taking a pill
To chill
Our will
To break free
To stop bending the knee
To stop sacrificing our souls to the false dark tech gods.
Blue ocean light,
dancing in the purple moonlight.
Waves drift.
Two seconds to midnight.
Waves drift.
Drifting to an island shore.
Two rays of glowing beauty.
Rising up to cast off the shoreline.
Through the whispering trees.
Who knew the universe?
Who knew it was she?
Who opened the door
to yet another universe
and set us free to be.
~7 Billion people
Teeming like a forest floor
It’s breathtaking
Like Endor
The first time
I saw her face
I said; I’m a believer!
I’m out of my my mind!
Then I saw her face
Planet Earth; she smiled
I smiled back
It blew my mind
At first, our connections form a mist—
a gentle veil that hovers in the morning air,
soft and undefined, barely visible.
As we age, the mist becomes a sprinkle—
tiny droplets that ground us to earth,
each one a promise of something more.
Then the drizzle comes through,
a steady rhythm on the windowpane,
and on comes a thin continuous stream of interconnectedness,
weaving through the years like silver threads.
The connections flit in and out like shadows,
heavy showers shape us,
torrential downpours test our souls,
monsoonal years flood our hearts,
and random cloudbursts catch us by surprise.
Until we find our way back again,
to the quiet stillness before the storm.
In the end, the loud raindrops sound
as our friends leave this world—
each drop a memory, a final echo.
We look up and see the mist returning,
drifting through our thoughts.
We remember the connections we had,
the rivers between us,
the storms that bound us.
We remember the mist, and then; we join it.
We can run a marathon alone.
We can grow a garden.
But alone only goes so far.
Acres of land only grow as we do.
Only we can land on the moon.
Our ability to go it alone is beautiful
But our willingness to reach for the stars is breathtaking.
