I have'nt relly got a topic for today, I just wanted to spread some text...Perhaps a poem from the dusty notebook:
The Origin of Clouds
Is closed for renovations.
Cling to woodsmoke, chipped stones, greenery
How far away can nature be?
Light fires out in the bush on weekends
Hang these moments about my person at work.
The mountains my crown robes of snow
landscape forming as parade in mind.
Lay aside the feast so as to see
The wonderous beauty of the ancient table.
Swollow air against the starvation,
watching a season masquarade as summer.
Streams rivers caves
I lick smooth the roughest of her parts.
As a basis for a theory of perception
Reality rates only as a borderland between;
The knowing gift
The assumed space
A waiting table
The space in line......
It was written in the summer when I was working in a public health care facility and wishing I was elsewhere.....I miss living in the bush, but the toys I play with now are kind of fun..and since the eucalyptus forests have been around for few hundred thousand years, they can wait a few years more for me to be back in them (thats if Harris Daishawa Timber mills have'nt trashed them completely first)............Om Gaia dudes...........Jimmi