technology scrambles the natural order, leaving a puzzle. i'm too tired and or lazy to reconstruct it so maybe it doesn't matter. it mightn't make much sense anyway. in fact i'm sure not, as life is a persistent puzzle anyway. also i apologize for redundancy or overlap because the technology also scrambles the saved images and days. i try to flow with it, like a bike in traffic.

and how we can rise too from the same ground, if we don't destroy ourselves

and i like it both ways,  but i can't say why

and i'm grateful but not for him and i shudder to recall that cadaverous face

and pops up ecstatic

so we shuffle through the pathless flora

and this is how we walk

and watch them go

and we feel blessed by bird and tree and flower and wind

and with the passion of true love, the sanctuary was saved from the desecrator

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mister looks back for pat his beloved birder

even if the humans destroy this place we will continue to explore

everybody wanna be what you are

follow the birds

it's easy to immerse yourself you just go in

i kept changing and decided to leave

if we can see it but

seeing we learn seeing learning endlessly children endless scared and wondrous out of the cradle endlessly rocking

it's here, it's closed, you can still use it

it's penetrating cold already my bones and i dread the coming dark

light in darkness!

links are mysteries

little lights join

looking through fences wondering what is in and what out

the tall visage with the death mask face deflected us off the path at the moment i was drawn by the bright sumac and  grateful

can some body show me to the bridge?

it may be true that we have all been here before. maybe that's why we are so casual  and reckless as well as why we fear

the realm of magic a step away from the poison path

steam, diffuse attention, it wasn't belief, it was ordinary magic

this where we started when we got there

and the sound reverberated in the garden

today i saw the flowers ending beautiful in the ground they will rise 

we revisit like children to loved books always discovering. the words become sounds in the woods.

we bow humble to the earth that allows us to bow 

we bow to each other and we bow to our secret selves

we commune with spirits

we see our tears can be mean the world

we learn that though we fear, we can practice peace

we rush across the rough graded road and flop in long grass

we see difference. language everything but words.

we pause and see each other

we wonder again

what music might he hear and see. i think he hears music.