I imagine galaxies like gears will calm dawn. tell you what the secret to your starss, alone… (in the;) – works; everytime!- re_writing the history books, reclaiming tut being jesus. Which batman goes, “what doesnt kill you, makes you stronger”. So superman protrudes, “its kryptonite.” …..but i hold my breath as the spectacle exumes and unearths and the skeletal remnants, then lifts the distinct holes, and the greatest ever hands unravels and i just know i know i know #wegotourownbrandof_hyper_spaaaaaa-aaaace who wrote the books?. I know i know.. How many times you going through his story? Strip away the medium. That place where it always filters and hides the truth. What if tut was jesus? Or his nemesis? What if the first civilizations that recorded and documented more thoroughly yet still contained the magic of life saw the gray skies clear and on the third day he rose, the sun returned…. it always rains good fridays. Always. So keep emotions in your head, keep your love. Keep whats real. The intangibles, every bit as strong as the belief in yourself. Acceptance. And following your heart. I have visions of old civilizations, a sense or a feeling thats probably general ignorance. But my intelligence says, quotes mostly, like rome was not built in a day…. and every picture tells a story. Well picture this: the olympics… the rings and the things that were made of; we will never know the mystery to the universe; so much fierce frustration to imagine it all…… just comes blurring me unnaturally, trying to envision. But my point is, its impossible to unravel, to dump out the infinity of the mind, its rage. So purely embrace, be emboldened by your rage. The possibility of things. And you will find the meaning. And yes, my sweet dreams, something sacred in a thousand years of searching for Child Jesus and the girl child the two meeting in a typhoon of the bare essentials of life, polar opposites, opposing views such as people lived in places, undiscovered territories, maybe died off..like those traveling from the east and those documenting, those recording and inventing history, this vast place is truly outstanding to think that it remained empty, in the mountains the plains and valleys. my mind is so large to magician into picture its immensity.. history reads to me like bedtime stories and it did not simply unfold as its told. but in slow developing proceses. that makes me wonder; who was there in places and vanished without any trace or history, were not concerned with recording it; just like the many facets and branches of broken roads, the neighborhoods unfold in such fast forward motion, with infinite stories untold. . Its the awful presence just gone from history that perks the curiosity in me my dear readers; just like a figment of imagination or a place so fantastic it could only exist as fantasy. places we will never know. things completely unknown drive me nuts and i want to plunge into the heart and the bright ignorance of the traditional earth and the slimey oozing divine living, all of her twists and divisions, i want to exprience every room and corner of places on the map, i want to explore plans as they come into fruition, and life, funnel what is and what will never be in and throughout so much as time space and expanse all the ineffable shining. hear you me Fin. and sound your horn, come out from your cave. I get visions that connect civilizations and fill gaps in history before it became historical documents, the last land ahead of giants. hang moon, rise at my winded sight. Change! My life i just cant pretend. Ricochet to the spirit. echo everlasting; Would i fair better someplace else? Could i climb up.. from anywhere … and slay the giant? God? Story? Can i write a new one? Afterall the…..rage?