It was not the product but the process of creation that mattered. The babies made and subsequent or inspired records in images or words they left: gone.
Retrospectively the "author" is not. I am still here conscious more so that nothing is lost in God.
Metaphorically I now know being here more conscious than ever conceivable I am nothing, and the product nothing, but the inspiration and author of everything more important than owning anything--weeping now, no laughter--i would and have given my soul to god preemptively since I trust God above all that I know, create or can intuit. And in knowing myself now as I better do than ever, know or intuit God has no ego . . . No not mindless but mindful and conscious the gift bestowed from beginning and . . . is there an end? . . . not of or too God, of course. But that said there is an end to ego.
I a sailor, I know, it most important to sail your boat humble or not, never watching the other who may fare better . . . it's being here now. What you have is what you get and no punishment but participation. Perhaps it best said in saying to be fully alive as yourself is being perfectly human and accepting the limits of who, why, when, what is the truth of you (thinking for the moment of Helen Keller . . . then whole groups of the blind, the halt, the crippled, the despised, the dying and) oh Dear God is it a crime to born a woman child?
My question begs the issue as follows: Should we have a governance or religion; A Super Race? What a Wheat Paste diet that would be: one language and ten trillions of definitions--love for instance?
My curiosity leads me heavenly towards different conjunctions/collisions dyslexically experienced in perfect sanity applying no previous experience or matrix sieve or round holes through which I must pass like a Lion leaping through firethorn circles at the circus for your entertainment . . . is it not true of my experience than when two or more are assembled the cathedral invisible is there also? I love and laugh at my associations with Abraham Lincoln, all of them, and refusing to bore you with mine would only ask that you seek your own.
Truth?
Define it for yourself!
As for me I have a poem "on the back burner simmering" about failed ambulance chasers becoming politicians. As in: incompetent lawyers who given the smallest amount of authority, or power, want not merely more; but all the marbles in eternity.
Therefore render themselves less noble than whores selling their children for profit and mortgaging, via promissory notes, their various body parts to be glorious rectums. Black Holes are more noble than a person who would sell another into slavery.
Yet being as i am and will to be in love and trust like the motto on the worthless paper our currency I do have love and reverence by nature for all life.
Think #6 Do no murder.
Is is okay to kill children that the mother survives. This question is something I ask of myself having eaten and regurgitated the deaths of both mine and the forever absence of the one adopted: the daughter of my heart.
The still quiet voice whispering inside my heart says; "leave it alone Jack"
Note no period
Creation insofar as potential in all life is as it must be what it is; it's own reward. Or bought and sold by Bill Gates as a commodity. Having no genius become a merchant or lawyer for might is right and to hell with all love . . . and then meet the Judge naked in the end as we all do: equal
Woodstock?
I don't know but for myself I feel safe and sleep well and don't care that cigarettes and coffee are taken by me inappropriately for nourishment before I break my fast: pop tart/farts or whatever; sometimes unleavened no salt crackers or like Audrey Hepburn nourishing tapeworms to keep svelte or whatever
I have an opinion regarding the current race (read competition for Commander-and-Chief of the once great pristine place we call a nation but actually we are merely tenants of) but being resident knowing my vote easily canceled by yours I'll not attempt to add one ad to sway your choice . . . i lie! I think Mr. Romney like the last Republican has a third testicle invisible to most accept to the children who will pay the price of his election with their flesh. All women are combatants now.
Oh Sweet Jesus! I love to write! . . . and it is so much easier now with Spell Check and not using a Raven filled with black blood its beak broken to write on rocks.
The only deathless prose is your story . . . don't be well until you start to record it
. . . or in deep contemplative meditative dedication pray to hear it spoken in your suffering wounded heart--Of course Mormon’s are arrived are they not; women all lined up to procreate?
121018 01:11 could be
©2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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