...in the name of ALLAH...
...there was a full moon on friday... or was it thursday...?... it was huge... globular... epic... mythic... in mythica...
...we were before a fire... songs... drums... dances... headstand...
...i rooted my skull into the ground until it seeded and became conversational with mycelium...
...i painted that mural by stream... in the ditches of cornells gorges... the one i flowed through asana in front of... but the brush was in her hands... the artist with the sharp eyes... clear... like water...
...i fell into conversations... sunday... saturday... friday night... before the fire... a strum of chords... folk lyrics... she told me her life... her days in trauma held in the flow of her breath... the hurt like a bass guitar... an umph... a deep desire for a shoulder... i listened to her memories... her great american novel... her childhood an americana like veterans marching after a war down a town center... in applause... the crowd not knowing they could never sleep again...
...i saw her again the following day... as she walked... said hi... she paused... we fell into story... from the night before... it was ten years before the novel... in paris... the awakening... the sound of french and coffee dripping... the pour of alcohol last month... at the liquor-shop... a new telepathic development to reveal what kind of spirits men love to guzzle... you're a jack person right?... yeah... how'd you know...?... you... your a bourbon sipper... yes... very much so... she read their alcoholic preferences like tarot... a psychic in the drown...
...i left... i had to go... i'll be back soon... but i do want to keep hearing your story...
...i meant it.. it wasn't a line... there was something compelling there... something in me that needed working out... that kept me enthralled in the stories of pretty in trauma... of wanting to be there... for more than a weekend... before it was over... like the moon... reaching across the horizon... as we stumbled into sleeping bags... separate... apart... our bodies returning apart from one another... into dirt... some of us remember the dead...
...today i am reminded of death... of those who've past... of those i remember because of their Love... of their Service... regardless of pay... of making it possible... and i did... i put that intention out... to manifest your dream... your Purpose... that's what the medicine man does... as he fades in the background... by placing You in the fore...
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