6 – Run ::

The last goose of the season is plucked and I have no immediate use for any more. Also I am building a ship. and have collected maps of antiquity for my onward journey.

 

As I reflect on the long shadow that passion has cast across my lighted path – I contemplate that goodbye consists of memory and a past, filled with heart-break

Bliss and pain – I, ready to dump all this baggage, and run…

“Ru-u-u-u-u-n …rabbit…Run

Dig a hole to catch the setting sun…”

As the song goes

The sun goes down

The moon comes up

And the madness starts

Legends die – and then live on in our songs of them: in a universe that is not only stranger than we imagine, but stranger than we can imagine it – all things are possible...

 

“A pity that tax-payers don’t read more science fiction. they might learn more about the future their taxes are buying”.

 

Nothing is quite as solid as we would wish it, nor quite as ephemeral as we might hope. For many, Life’s map, sketched from our memory, is of a provincial little neighbour-hood, criss-crossed with regret and circumscribed by a few impassable roads…the hearts of so many people dwell in the same wilderness.

 

Yet I See::

Passion like the sun run riot all over so brightly making the colors of life seem grey: and dance and burn in it yearning for One Like You to dance with me. And as I dice with doomsday in this ballet dancers secret world, I recall…Troppo ballerina de Jazz…
My Crazy Diamond.