Friday, April 22, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
On a white rose ...
... Perches a butterfly who has traveled many miles to return to her spring gardens... the one she is so familiar. Her migration back to this place is but memories now. Her garden has wilted away from neglect and grown over into a jungle of what-ifs. To bring it back to such former splendor would require effort and energy the butterfly could scarcely afford. Her nectar has turned bitter. Not enough to sustain such beauty ...
Just how bad
June 17th, 2011
I want to touch you. How bad I ache beyond anything I've ever known. How you set me on fire when I think of us. The sound of your voice over the phone bringing back our kisses passions stirring me into a state of starvation to have you again. Without saying a word, picturing your response to my mental images knowing full well you hunger too. There is no one who has captured me so completely. No one who's left the cage door so widely open in trust. Every ounce of you is wanted. Needed. I will stay locked in your heart with the key in reach. Let our release be together endlessly in Tennessee.
I love you C
In dreams we trust
THE LAST BASTION OF WILD AMERICA, WHERE FREEDOM RUNS IN OBLIVIOUS HERDS, I CROSS THE PLAINS OF THE NEVADA WILDERNESS. DESERT OASIS SHIMMERING LIKE JEWELS IN KING HEROD'S CHEST.
I SEE HER BURST THROUGH THE SCRUB BRUSH AND TUMBLEWEEDS IN DIRECT CONTRAST TO THE MAGNIFICENT BEAUTY OF HERSELF. THIS FILLY SO FULL OF HERSELF ALL BLUFF AND BLUSTER. NOSTRILS FLAIR, DARK MANE FLYING IN ALL DIRECTIONS. HOOVES BEAT DOWN THE TRODDEN DESERT FLOOR, KICKING UP DUST DEVILS LIKE THE DEVIL HIMSELF WAS AFTER HER.
SHE STOPS ALL FOURS IN FRONT OF HER. SHE SEES ME. LIFTS HER HEAD AND CONSIDERS ME. THE SWEAT ROLLING DOWN HER WITHERS IN SHEETS OF EQUINE RAIN. THE SMELL OF WILD RAW POWER SURROUNDS MY SENSES AS I STARE IN SILENT WONDER OF HER.
BLINK AND SHES GONE. I BELIEVE THIS TO BE JUST A MOMENT IN TIME WHEN MY MIND SEES WHAT MY HEART HAS ALWAYS WANTED. AN EXPRESSION OF TRUST FROM SOMETHING MUCH LARGER THAN I WILL EVER BE ABLE TO COMPREHEND.
SHE HEARS THE RINGING SHOTS OF THE BLM COPTERS IN HER EARS AS SHE WATCHES ME. SHE SEES HER BROTHERS FALL ALL AROUND HER. THE MEMORY OF THAT DAY STILL AS VIVID AS THE MORNINGS SUNRISE. THE COLORS OF THE SUN RUNNING INTO THE RIVERS OF HER FAMILIES BLOOD. THE THRUMMING OF MY OLD TRUCKS V8 ENGINE SOUNDING LIKE THE ROTOR BLADES OF DEATH ABOVE. SHE SHAKES IT OFF AND TURNS INTO A BOLT OF HORIZONTAL LIGHTNING.
THE STARS OF NIGHT GLITTERY IN SERPENTINE PATTERNS OVER THE VAST EXPANSE OF HORIZON. ONLY THE HILLS TO SHOW OUTLINE DEFINING THE BEGINNING OF THE HEAVENS. MY CAMPFIRE STICKS OUT LIKE A SORE THUMB AGAINST THIS BACKDROP. IT IS A BEACON TO THE SCORPIONS AS I WATCH THEIR KAMIKAZE DANCE INTO THE RING.
I DREAM OF HER. SHE IS HOME WITH ME ON HER OWN 5 ACRES OF PLAYGROUND. I SIT AMONGST THE WILDFLOWERS IN THE SHADE OF A LARGE POPLAR. WATCHING HER ROLL IN THE MUSTARD WEED AND LUPINE. SINEWY MUSCLE ALONG HER CALVES & A SMALL WHITE STAR ON HER CHEST. SHE IS IN BLISS AMONGST THE BEES & GRASS BLADES THAT TICKLE HER NOSE.
I SPEAK LOW TO HER. SHE EYES ME WITH INTEREST. I APPROACH HER SLOWLY GIVING HER ROOM TO RISE AND BOLT IF NECESSARY. SHE STILL EQUATES ME WITH "THAT NOISE" THOUGH BY NOW THERE HAS BEEN SOME BRIDGE TO TRUST. OFFERING HER MY PALM, FINGERS CLOSE TOGETHER, SHE CONTEMPLATES WHAT MY OFFERING MIGHT BE. IT IS NOT IN MY PALM BUT IN MY HEART.
I WAKE TO EMBERS GLOWING AND A COYOTE SONG NOT TOO FAR AWAY. THERE IS FRESH HOOF PRINTS IN MY CAMP. TRACING THEM WITH A FINGER AND LOOKING OFF INTO THE DISTANCE I CAN JUST BARELY MAKE OUT HER HERD. GRAZING PEACEFULLY ON THE DRIED WILD ALFALFA. I AM HERE FOR THIS. THIS SERENITY. THIS QUIET CONTENTEDNESS OF SOUL. I AM HAPPY TO JUST BE AN OBSERVER OF WHAT AMOUNTS TO THE MOST AMAZING GRACE ONES SPIRIT WILL EVER SEE.
THE FACT SHE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO COME INTO CAMP RENEWS MY OWN RESERVATIONS ABOUT BEING HERE AT ALL. TALKING MORE TO THE COTTONTAILS THAN MYSELF, I TELL THEM SHE WILL ONE DAY UNDERSTAND THAT I WILL DO HER NO HARM. IT MAY BE AFTER OUR DEATHS. WE MAY ONLY MEET IN OUR DREAMS, BUT THERE SHE WILL SEE MY TRUE HEART AND I HERS.
I CAN NEVER FULLY UNDERSTAND HER STRIFE. WHAT HER LIFE MUST BE LIKE. HOW HER MIND MUST CHANGE IN AN INSTANT FOR SURVIVAL. HOW SHE CAN BE PLAYFUL IN ONE MOMENT AND TERROR STRICKEN THE NEXT. THE WILD WILL NEVER BE TAKEN OUT OF HER. NORE WOULD I EVER WANT IT TO BE.
SETTING OFF ON A HIKE OVER THE PAINTED DESERT ROCK OUTCROPPINGS, MY CAMERA SWINGING BETWEEN MY BREASTS. HOPING TO SEE THEM BELOW IN THE SMALL BOX CANYON WHERE THE WATERING HOLE OF MAN MADE PROVISIONS SUSTAINS THEM. I AM NOT DISAPPOINTED. THE HERD IS ABOUT 30 IN ALL. TAILS SWISHING LONGER THAN ANY TAME PONY I HAVE MET, MY CAMERA CAPTURING THE ESSENCE OF MAGNIFICENT POWER ON FILM. SHE IS NOT AMONG THEM. WORRY SETS IN. "WHAT IFS" COME FASTER THAN I CAN THINK. THE CLICK OF CAMERA SHUTTERS SPEED SLOWER THAN MY THOUGHTS.
UPON RETURNING TO CAMP, SWEAT POOLING IN CREVICES I HADN'T REALIZED I HAD... I AM GREETED WITH A PICTURE OF INCREDIBLE AMUSEMENT. THERE SHE IS. HEAD STUFFED THROUGH THE WINDOW OF MY OLD TRUCKS PASSENGER SIDE. INHALING THE SCENT OF MY ESSENCE AND RED VINYL. "AHHH MY SWEET GIRL WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?" I STOP AND SIT CROSS LEGGED IN THE SAND. SHE HEARS ME. I KNOW SHE DOES. BUT SOMEHOW THE SCENT OF MY TRUCK AND THE CAMP HAS REASSURED HER. THERE IS NONE OF HER FAMILIES BLOOD SPILLED HERE OR THE SMELL OF POWDER BURNS. I AM 20 YARDS AWAY.
SHE PULLS HER HEAD OUT AND STARES. SNORTING IN DEFIANCE. PAWING AT THE SAND. MY VOICE CALM, I SPEAK TO HER. IT IS THEN I NOTICE THE SMALL STAR IN MY DREAM IS ACTUALLY A DEEP SCAR ON HER CHEST. THE WOUND CARRIES ALL THE TRAGEDY OF HER LIFE. LIKE A PALM READER I FOLLOW THE VEINS BULGING IN HER NECK. BRIGHT EYES, DEEP WITH WISDOM. SHE COMES CLOSER... AND I ASK HER TO TRUST ME. SHE SPOOKS. WHICH IN TURN SCARES ME. SHE IS GONE AND I AM ALONE AGAIN.
THAT NIGHT SHE RETURNS TO MY DREAMS ONCE MORE. TO THAT PERFECT PLACE WHERE FEAR DOES NOT EXIST. WHERE WE BOTH SPEAK EACH OTHERS LANGUAGE. WHERE BLOOD NEVER FLOWS AND SCARS ARE STARS. I MOUNT HER BAREBACK. LEGS SPREAD WIDE WITH MY ARMS AROUND HER NECK. RESTING MY HEAD AGAINST HER MANE SOFTLY BRUSHING MY CHEEK. FEELING EUPHORIC AND IN TUNE. I WHISPER HER NAME....
I SEE HER BURST THROUGH THE SCRUB BRUSH AND TUMBLEWEEDS IN DIRECT CONTRAST TO THE MAGNIFICENT BEAUTY OF HERSELF. THIS FILLY SO FULL OF HERSELF ALL BLUFF AND BLUSTER. NOSTRILS FLAIR, DARK MANE FLYING IN ALL DIRECTIONS. HOOVES BEAT DOWN THE TRODDEN DESERT FLOOR, KICKING UP DUST DEVILS LIKE THE DEVIL HIMSELF WAS AFTER HER.
SHE STOPS ALL FOURS IN FRONT OF HER. SHE SEES ME. LIFTS HER HEAD AND CONSIDERS ME. THE SWEAT ROLLING DOWN HER WITHERS IN SHEETS OF EQUINE RAIN. THE SMELL OF WILD RAW POWER SURROUNDS MY SENSES AS I STARE IN SILENT WONDER OF HER.
BLINK AND SHES GONE. I BELIEVE THIS TO BE JUST A MOMENT IN TIME WHEN MY MIND SEES WHAT MY HEART HAS ALWAYS WANTED. AN EXPRESSION OF TRUST FROM SOMETHING MUCH LARGER THAN I WILL EVER BE ABLE TO COMPREHEND.
SHE HEARS THE RINGING SHOTS OF THE BLM COPTERS IN HER EARS AS SHE WATCHES ME. SHE SEES HER BROTHERS FALL ALL AROUND HER. THE MEMORY OF THAT DAY STILL AS VIVID AS THE MORNINGS SUNRISE. THE COLORS OF THE SUN RUNNING INTO THE RIVERS OF HER FAMILIES BLOOD. THE THRUMMING OF MY OLD TRUCKS V8 ENGINE SOUNDING LIKE THE ROTOR BLADES OF DEATH ABOVE. SHE SHAKES IT OFF AND TURNS INTO A BOLT OF HORIZONTAL LIGHTNING.
THE STARS OF NIGHT GLITTERY IN SERPENTINE PATTERNS OVER THE VAST EXPANSE OF HORIZON. ONLY THE HILLS TO SHOW OUTLINE DEFINING THE BEGINNING OF THE HEAVENS. MY CAMPFIRE STICKS OUT LIKE A SORE THUMB AGAINST THIS BACKDROP. IT IS A BEACON TO THE SCORPIONS AS I WATCH THEIR KAMIKAZE DANCE INTO THE RING.
I DREAM OF HER. SHE IS HOME WITH ME ON HER OWN 5 ACRES OF PLAYGROUND. I SIT AMONGST THE WILDFLOWERS IN THE SHADE OF A LARGE POPLAR. WATCHING HER ROLL IN THE MUSTARD WEED AND LUPINE. SINEWY MUSCLE ALONG HER CALVES & A SMALL WHITE STAR ON HER CHEST. SHE IS IN BLISS AMONGST THE BEES & GRASS BLADES THAT TICKLE HER NOSE.
I SPEAK LOW TO HER. SHE EYES ME WITH INTEREST. I APPROACH HER SLOWLY GIVING HER ROOM TO RISE AND BOLT IF NECESSARY. SHE STILL EQUATES ME WITH "THAT NOISE" THOUGH BY NOW THERE HAS BEEN SOME BRIDGE TO TRUST. OFFERING HER MY PALM, FINGERS CLOSE TOGETHER, SHE CONTEMPLATES WHAT MY OFFERING MIGHT BE. IT IS NOT IN MY PALM BUT IN MY HEART.
I WAKE TO EMBERS GLOWING AND A COYOTE SONG NOT TOO FAR AWAY. THERE IS FRESH HOOF PRINTS IN MY CAMP. TRACING THEM WITH A FINGER AND LOOKING OFF INTO THE DISTANCE I CAN JUST BARELY MAKE OUT HER HERD. GRAZING PEACEFULLY ON THE DRIED WILD ALFALFA. I AM HERE FOR THIS. THIS SERENITY. THIS QUIET CONTENTEDNESS OF SOUL. I AM HAPPY TO JUST BE AN OBSERVER OF WHAT AMOUNTS TO THE MOST AMAZING GRACE ONES SPIRIT WILL EVER SEE.
THE FACT SHE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO COME INTO CAMP RENEWS MY OWN RESERVATIONS ABOUT BEING HERE AT ALL. TALKING MORE TO THE COTTONTAILS THAN MYSELF, I TELL THEM SHE WILL ONE DAY UNDERSTAND THAT I WILL DO HER NO HARM. IT MAY BE AFTER OUR DEATHS. WE MAY ONLY MEET IN OUR DREAMS, BUT THERE SHE WILL SEE MY TRUE HEART AND I HERS.
I CAN NEVER FULLY UNDERSTAND HER STRIFE. WHAT HER LIFE MUST BE LIKE. HOW HER MIND MUST CHANGE IN AN INSTANT FOR SURVIVAL. HOW SHE CAN BE PLAYFUL IN ONE MOMENT AND TERROR STRICKEN THE NEXT. THE WILD WILL NEVER BE TAKEN OUT OF HER. NORE WOULD I EVER WANT IT TO BE.
SETTING OFF ON A HIKE OVER THE PAINTED DESERT ROCK OUTCROPPINGS, MY CAMERA SWINGING BETWEEN MY BREASTS. HOPING TO SEE THEM BELOW IN THE SMALL BOX CANYON WHERE THE WATERING HOLE OF MAN MADE PROVISIONS SUSTAINS THEM. I AM NOT DISAPPOINTED. THE HERD IS ABOUT 30 IN ALL. TAILS SWISHING LONGER THAN ANY TAME PONY I HAVE MET, MY CAMERA CAPTURING THE ESSENCE OF MAGNIFICENT POWER ON FILM. SHE IS NOT AMONG THEM. WORRY SETS IN. "WHAT IFS" COME FASTER THAN I CAN THINK. THE CLICK OF CAMERA SHUTTERS SPEED SLOWER THAN MY THOUGHTS.
UPON RETURNING TO CAMP, SWEAT POOLING IN CREVICES I HADN'T REALIZED I HAD... I AM GREETED WITH A PICTURE OF INCREDIBLE AMUSEMENT. THERE SHE IS. HEAD STUFFED THROUGH THE WINDOW OF MY OLD TRUCKS PASSENGER SIDE. INHALING THE SCENT OF MY ESSENCE AND RED VINYL. "AHHH MY SWEET GIRL WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?" I STOP AND SIT CROSS LEGGED IN THE SAND. SHE HEARS ME. I KNOW SHE DOES. BUT SOMEHOW THE SCENT OF MY TRUCK AND THE CAMP HAS REASSURED HER. THERE IS NONE OF HER FAMILIES BLOOD SPILLED HERE OR THE SMELL OF POWDER BURNS. I AM 20 YARDS AWAY.
SHE PULLS HER HEAD OUT AND STARES. SNORTING IN DEFIANCE. PAWING AT THE SAND. MY VOICE CALM, I SPEAK TO HER. IT IS THEN I NOTICE THE SMALL STAR IN MY DREAM IS ACTUALLY A DEEP SCAR ON HER CHEST. THE WOUND CARRIES ALL THE TRAGEDY OF HER LIFE. LIKE A PALM READER I FOLLOW THE VEINS BULGING IN HER NECK. BRIGHT EYES, DEEP WITH WISDOM. SHE COMES CLOSER... AND I ASK HER TO TRUST ME. SHE SPOOKS. WHICH IN TURN SCARES ME. SHE IS GONE AND I AM ALONE AGAIN.
THAT NIGHT SHE RETURNS TO MY DREAMS ONCE MORE. TO THAT PERFECT PLACE WHERE FEAR DOES NOT EXIST. WHERE WE BOTH SPEAK EACH OTHERS LANGUAGE. WHERE BLOOD NEVER FLOWS AND SCARS ARE STARS. I MOUNT HER BAREBACK. LEGS SPREAD WIDE WITH MY ARMS AROUND HER NECK. RESTING MY HEAD AGAINST HER MANE SOFTLY BRUSHING MY CHEEK. FEELING EUPHORIC AND IN TUNE. I WHISPER HER NAME....
7/14/09
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Did you really think I would let you burn alone?
Burning
To see something burning in your dream, indicates that you are experiencing some intense emotions and/or passionate sexual feelings. There is some situation or issue that you can no longer avoid and ignore. Alternatively, it may suggest that you need to take time off for yourself and relax. Perhaps you are you feeling "burned out" or "burned up".
To dream that you or someone is being burned alive, suggests that you are being consumed by your own ambition.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Drownin in the deep
Women are my curse. Hats off to men who can deal with them. Let me know your secret. It's in the smell of their heat and the devil in their eyes and the sway of their hips and the way they lie so easily...
I
will
drown
every
time.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Cleaning headcases
Let the bugs work on your heads outside naturally just make sure they are kept in a wire cage away from thieves. His funniness about the bugs cracks me up. Carnivorous dermestid beetles are found everywhere in the world including your own backyard. So true don't boil your head too long! My coyote head started to flake. Teeth collected after that had fallen out and they do. Superglue works wonders but not easy to fit them back in correctly. Bleach and peroxide dip to whiten after and day or two to dry depending on the size of mount. Acrylic resin or shellac spray to seal after. *Warning* it doesn't seem to keep the thieves from trying to make them dinner!
Best kept inside after being sprayed.
Best kept inside after being sprayed.
I prefer to work with small vertebrae animals.
Let's just call it recycled roadkill to art.
I despise hunting! :)
Postmortems
Another site very dear to me, stirs the mothering instinct and sorrow when I need a good cry. Post mortems are one of the most beautiful ways of preservation of love I've ever seen. The history of them is both fascinating and haunting. I will often use reproduced ones and hand tint them, incorporating into those shadowboxes I love to make.
Something wicked...
Very inspiring art makes me want to go back to crafting. Having made an account on Etsy I might just do that. Lots of shadowbox ideas and good use of all those natural history items I've been collecting :)
Friday, April 8, 2011
Runs with scissors
Those of You Born
1930 - 1979
1930 - 1979
TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE
1930's, 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's!!
First, we survived being born to mothers
Who smoked and/or drank while they were
Pregnant.
They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing,
Tuna from a can and didn't get tested for diabetes.
Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-base paints.
We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles,
Locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode
Our bikes, we had baseball caps not helmets on our heads.
As infants & children,
We would ride in cars with no car seats,
No booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.
Riding in the back of a pick-up truck on a warm day
Was always a special treat.
We drank water
From the garden hose and not from a bottle.
We shared one soft drink with four friends,
From one bottle and no one actually died from this.
We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon.
We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar.
And, we weren't overweight.
WHY?
Because we were
Always outside playing...that's why!
We would leave home in the morning and play all day,
As long as we were back when the
Streetlights came on.
No one was able
To reach us all day. And, we were O.K.
We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps
And then ride them down the hill, only to find out
We forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes
a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's and X-boxes.
There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable,
No video movies or DVD's, no surround-sound or CD's,
No cell phones,
No personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms.
WE HAD FRIENDS
And we went outside and found them!
We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth
And there were no lawsuits from these accidents.
We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt,
And the worms did not live in us
Forever.
We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays,
Made up games with sticks and tennis balls and,
Although we were told it would happen,
We did not put out very many eyes..
We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and
Knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just
Walked in and talked to them.
Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team.
Those who didn't had to learn to deal
With disappointment.
Imagine that!!
The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law
Was unheard of.
They actually sided with the law!
These generations have produced some of the best
Risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever.
The past 50 years
Have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility,
and we learned how to deal with it all.
If YOU are one of them?
CONGRATULATIONS!
You might want to share this with others
who have had the luck to grow up as kids, before the
lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives
for our own good.
While you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know
how brave and lucky their parents were.
Kind of makes you want to run through the house
with scissors, doesn't it ?Author Unknown
Move over me
Intensity driven, thoughts drift in and out of you as tendrils lace around my heart. Countdown begins breathing new life and rebirth of an almost spiritual nature. Such is you. Sunken in deep as my nails to your back echos what you have done to my soul. It is the old ways of viewing life that have no hold. It is the new ways of love that hold the key to everything.
Us. Now. Always.
Move with me... move over me...
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Where's Murphy?
Ahh my arch nemesis Murphy strikes again. He is secretly hiding behind "Where's Waldo" in the scenic backdrop of my life. Yesterday he was in my computer. Tonight C's. I've seen him in the gas pump regurgitating the prices up. He's been spotted in the phone lines hiding behind the ruse of an "all inclusive" plan. He's in the thunderstorms and the lightening strikes of Cincinnati. He curls around my waist making it harder to button my jeans. He took a dump on the bathroom rug and blamed it on the cat. He rode around in the backseat of a rental car in Kentucky... There is but one law to abide.
KILL ALL MURPHYS!
Abandonment = Hoarding
What is death? If not but a form of abandonment. The first step to recovery is acknowledging there's a problem so they say. Oh yes.... it is a problem. This continual abandonment. Loss. No blood. Bits and pieces of what was and will never be again. Manifested into a mountain of tangible memories. Old radios, WW2 memorabilia useless to anyone but you. Kept for the simple reason that it was all important to you. Hence important to me. Or is it? At one time I thought so. You and the ghosts of what was, belong here. I don't think I ever belonged anywhere. At least in death you know you have a permanent home. Your belongings and I have made peace. They will be resurrected upon the shelves of some other collector who will once again see the value of dust.
Peace of my mind
Maybe it's the way you hand me those puzzle pieces of yourself. Maybe it's the way they sometimes seem to have extras left over when my mind is already made up of pieces of my own without yours. Maybe it's fear. Something you don't understand. Maybe it's just excuses. What I do know is that solitude is a huge piece. A place where the pieces of my mind come together in the quiet of the night. The image it always makes is that of you and I. Full lives, passionate, lovingly well rounded and worn to a soft hue of feathery dog eared edges. Allow me this time to piece it together just once more... before that puzzle jumps off my brain pan and into your arms for life.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
I hate Cincinnati Bell
Time ticks on... The hours shorten as does my patience. Thoughts decieve and wish to derail all that I know of you. Wandering in and out of foolish landscapes, empty bed and the cats advantage of your pillow. How I wish it was you...
Book of Secrets
Might of might. Splendor of splendor. This is the terror inherent in love: that such power may exist without reason, that death may be feared and lusted for as a woman, that passion gives rise to passion. I am moved by desire as if in a boat transported from horizon to horizon. What I have done for love, let it be held against me. I am a man whose heart is too full. I am a man empty of sin. It is life I desire and my lust for it and I shall enter the heart of the mountain together. Together we shall be judged by shining beasts and they shall say "There walks he who loved life." One day, with a shout, I'll rise through the sky. My voice will mingle with air. I'll cross horizons; with silver wings I'll enter the realm of magic. Within the temple of mountain and sky, corn grows amid earth's yellow scars. This is the sacred cathedral of Ra into which men long to enter. My name will recall the countless stars under which new lovers kiss. Death ferries me to a distant shore while striped fish spawn on turquoise waters, while black fish leap in white rivers.
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