The universe above my head massive in size with spinning galaxy’s and exploding stars.
I sit in my little home warm being content.
None of that really bothers me.
I got up to adjust my blinds and see the birds in the bird-feeder.
Beautiful day the sun shining bright.
The sun a raging furnace above my head.
I’m just far enough away that I’m not bothered.
The sun issues cosmic storms sending massive amounts of radiation aim right at my head.
I take a walk in the woods enjoying the day not worried about such things. I know mother Gaia has a force field that pushes that away.
Our little home barely a mote in space, lost in the vastness of the universe made perfect some how.

Hello my name is Joe,
I'm from planet Earth.
I opened my eyes one day and found myself there. Where I was before I do not know. They taught me stuff, made me go to school. To keep alive I found a job then passed on my genes. I'm getting old now and I'm slowing down. Soon I will close my eyes and be moving on. Where I go next I do not know. But I know it will be someplace else,
my dreams told me so.
Perhaps we'll meet again.

Power
and control.
Beware.
The few
controlling
the many.
Narratives,
influencing
controlling
mechanisms.
Spinning up
stories,
influencing
minds.
Controlling
worlds.
Simple
narrati­ves
controlling
millions.
Banners
to follow.
Eyes wide
open.
Mind crystal
clear.
Assess.
Assess the
story.
Humanity.
All human.
Beliefs
different.
Narratives
cleaving,
shaping
population­s;
shaping
creating beliefs,
creating division.
Technology
driven
narratives.
Shooting
crystal bullets
straight
to the
soul.
Grabbing,
shaping
thought.
The few
controlling
the many.
Beware.
Beware
the ultimate
narrative.
Ultimate
control!
Eyes wide
open.
Assess.
Beware.

Where
are they?
All those
who never
were.
All those
never born.
Many reasons.
War.
Millions killed.
Millions more
never
born.
Whole lines
of family
future,
****.
Generation
after
generation,
****.
Never to be.
People you’d
be conversing
with right
now.
Having a coffee,
watching the game,
sharing a beer.
Never happened
never arrived.
Where are they?
People you’d
have differences
with.
Argue with.
Love,
share
time with.
Never born,
never arrived.
Their essence,
never
to be.
Where
are they?
Strange
existence
indeed!

Old ways.
Old ways of
thinking.
Primitive ways.
Thinking
derived out of
fear, ignorance.
Still being
believed.
A new age,
with new
ideas,
new realities,
sweeping it
all away.
All away In
a flash of
enlightenment.
Old generations
replaced by
new generations.
New ideas
replace
the old.
Global mind,
evolves.
Evolves
a new reality.
Unifying thought,
reality.
Fear,
replaced with
wonderment.
New
understandings
shining the
light on the
dark places.
The dark places
of the past.
The primitive
enlightened.
Eyes open,
open in a
new place.
In a flash
the dark ages
replaced by
a new world.
A new world
free, cleansed
of fear.

It slips in at night. Stealthy and low at first.
A few flakes pick up speed as the first low howl can be heard.
Wind howls against the house, branches scratching at the window like a cat trying to get in.
Heavy wet snow can be heard plastering itself onto everything.
Lights flickering as if planning on going out.
Snow in the street lights, heavyweight thumping down trees.
Tree limbs crash down on wires, popping sounds and sparks as transformers are taken out.
Cities go dark as power is lost, houses grow cold as the furnaces die down.
Sleep finally wins out till mornings light awakes.
The storm does not abate.
Everything covered in white, an eerie and wonderful state.
Trees coated in snow, winds whipping the limbs around mimicking the haunting of ghosts.
Snow drifts piling high as others places scoured clear and clean.
The snow hammers down and will for hours more.
Smoke in the chimneys, stoking the wood stoves and fireplaces as homes warm back up relying on the old ways to stay warm.
As the storm slowly dies down the soldiers of winter shovels in hand begin to roust about, bringing some semblance of order back to the homestead again.
Kids in the yards warring with white ammunition as school was called off. Snow angels with Frosty dancing around the yard. Sleighing and yelling can be heard out in the fields.
Mom back at home prepares hot chocolate with marshmallow delights for all the frosty nose participants from this winters stormy night.

What is normal?
We live in a world where everything seems normal.
It's normal to have two eyes and one head.
It's normal to live on a ball floating in a limitless void.
It's normal to have two sexes for procreation.
It's normal for the sky to be blue and the grass to be green.
Everything we see seems normal to us.
But what else can we believe? We're custom made for the place.
How would we feel if we had six eyes and four feet?
How would we feel if the sky was pink and the grass was orange?
How would we feel if the world was flat and went on forever.
If born into this kind of universe we'd feel it's normal.
Normal is a relative term.
Question everything, because nothing is normal.

Thoughts
swimming
in my
mind.
Swimming
side to side.
Swimming
up and
down.
Swirling
all around.
Popping
in and out
of existence.
Coming
and going.
Thoughts pop
out of
nowhere
out of the
ether.
Then,
returning back
whence
they came.
Thoughts
to ideas.
Ideas to
creations.
Everything man
makes came
from a thought,
came from
ideas,
came from
from the ether,
came from
nothing.
Look around.
Everything
comes from
nothing.
Everything
is
nothing!

Great or
not.
Those who
were once,
are no
more.
Firefly blink.
Deep woods
firefly flash.
Most
unnoticed,
nothing
left behind.
Majesty
and grandeur,
mere dust
in the
breeze.
Self important,
indulgence.
Self important,
nonsense.
Means naught.
Tapestry.
Trappings.
Perfumes.
Vanish
as the
lights
go out.
Mean
nothing.
Less than
nothing.
Merely echos,
reflections
of
unimportance.
Lost in
time.
Ledger closed.
Memories fade.
Nothing
remains.
Nothing
to remember.
Nothing
left to
see.

The future
is now.
Time space
encapsulated.
All one
all time
at once.
The past
alters the
future.
The future
reflects the past.
Each moment
connected
balled up.
Balled up
as one.
Turned in
on itself.
What’s decided
steers events.
Creates the bubble.
The universe.
Decisions, create.
The future,
based
on choices made.
Infinite choices
infinite
futures.
Every option
realized from
nothing to
everything.

Oblivion.
Oblivion
bookends.
Life is what
happens
in between.
Not from
dust to
dust.
Oblivion to
oblivion.
What was
before?
What will
be after?
Oblivion.
Life, but a
placeholder
between.
Light between
darkness.
Life
between oblivions
What to do?
What to say?
How to deal?
Bookends.
Oblivion bookends
cradling light.
Cradling life.
Cradling us.
What to do?
What to do
with this
gift?
Gift of
light and
life.
Make something
happen.
Write.
Draw.
Sing.
Paint.
Create!
Scream.
Let the
Cosmos
know you
existed.
Leave something
behind.
Carve your
name into
the light.
Do not waste
what little
time’s available.
Make a
difference.
Make a
difference
before oblivion
comes.

The odds.
What are the
odds?
What are the
odds
of being?
Existence,
life,
sentience.
Being alive.
What’s the
likelihood?
Universe formation.
Solar formation.
Planet formation.
Life formation.
Personal formation.
All that had
to occur
for personal
formation,
existence.
What are
the odds?
Incalculable.
Perhaps
you’ve always
been here.
Perhaps
you are
eternal!
What are
the odds?

Once.
They were
here.
Came before.
Smiles, tears,
laughter.
Echos
faint echos
throughout.
Wafting
in time
and space.
Once was,
their sounds
never die.
Still here,
mellowed
filling
quintessence.
Salty soil.
Seasoned
earth.
Spirited
clouds.
Essence enfolded
in what is.
All reflected
within.
Within all.
All that
were
still are.
Souls
of this
realm.
Squeeze
the soil.
Look within.
Listen
hard.
They’re
here,
still here.
Always
will be.

One
with
existence.
Contemplation.
Above
and slightly
skewed
of the
material.
Body,
ocean
material.
Contemplation.
Different.
Non­ atomic.
No structure.
Ethereal
Can’t be
touched.
Can’t be
seen.
Invisible
to the
cosmos.
Yet,
contemplation
is one.
One
with all
matter.
Ocean
body,
plant,
universe.
All
included.
All
Contem­plate.
All
integral,
essential.
Without
all, there’d
be nothing!
Nothing
at all.
Nothing to
contemplate.

Earth is home for billions of us, we live on one planet, we all call it home.
None of us, however, live in the same world.
The worlds we live in are as varied
as the people that inhabit them.
Some live in heaven others call hell their home, many live in limbo made simply to roam.
No two worlds are exactly the same.
Some are healthy while others in pain.
Some are rich many are poor.
Some live in freedom others detained.
Some are happy while many are sad.
This planet has many worlds, none are the same.
Some are gregarious others simply plain.
Some are geniuse while others insane.
Each one with their own story to tell.
History is replete with such worlds, no two are the same.

What are we?
Why are we?
How do we?
It’s an infinite place and we so very small. We seem so very much apart. Do we even belong? How could we ever learn it all?
We look out, we look up, we look down and we look under. We feel so
very much cut away from it all. Why were we born? Seems to make no sense.
Trillions of points shining as far as the eye can see and far beyond. Information, so much information, more than we could possibly understand. Are we alone? Are we part of a larger family? Are we individuals or a cog in a larger family tree?
Step by step we try to build, we try to understand. So much to know and so little time.
Cannot do it alone, one mind simply not capable of knowing it all.
A collective mind are we. Building machines to store it all help us make sense. The further we go the more we need to know, the more we need to rearrange and organize. Piece by piece the puzzle is built.
Knowledge on top of knowledge is how the model shifts. Generation after generation the collective mind is built. We are not just cogs in the machine, but very much more. The piece of the puzzle we lay becomes part of a larger we. Those who were, are and to be are all very much a part of a larger whole. We are all in fact one with the Universe. Not alone, not apart, but woven into the fabric of space and time, part of a much larger we!

Splashes of green lined up row after row.
Limbs of green shooting skyward downward everywhere.
Vibrant light shades of newness this time every year,
each displaying its own quaint uniqueness. Explosions of color as Spring rolls around.
As the winds blow hot, green takes on a mature look.
Little orbs of green begin to appear, growing larger redder, same as last year.
Big red plumpness filled up by the rain.
Limbs droop and groan as the weight of the task made increasingly clear.

Warm winds give way to their northern brethren, blowing cooler and stronger.
Limbs pregnant with swollen redness moan waiting, wanting
to expel the burden, as it does every year.
Leaves darken, grow crunchy and float to the ground.
Redness has spread from sky to ground, as colder stronger winds begin to expound.

Straight lined scraggly row after row, hunched over old women worn down by the snow.
Limbs whipping in cold wind like witches hair,
gnarly bent fingers pointing, accusing everywhere.
Dark skies in control.

Old women waiting, waiting for warm winds to reappear to be once again made fruitful, as it was just last year.