My purpose may not be to reach a tangible goal
My purpose may be to cleanse my soul
By showing others the love that will set us free and
Brighten our paths to The Unseen Destiny.

Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and
choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.
Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon,
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.

Everything
Is
Alive


Words Of Harfouchism

You cannot wish for responsibility
while avoiding being responsible.

Such is a childish whim.
Such is a selfish whim.
Such is unsustainable.