Kids play differn't these days
not so flat, more points of focus in less time,

more  POVs and Portals and Morphic Resonance and such

Minecraft. If you never watched a child at play
building a world from available resources,
near-infinite, digital resources limited
by algorithms based on

science.
Eco-industrial-only-mortal-home-known science.

You should see it.

Stones and plants and animals and winds and water
using right, effecting change, shaping things
in her world.

You should see what your grandchildren think.

They have access to tools we only imagined.
Remember what you imagined a road grader could do?

She built heaven with a stairway and I suggested
an elevator.

She said I could build one, a heaven elevator,
for old people in a world I make up.

She had planned to teach me if she had the chance.
She made me several avatars, she knows me.

wizard grandpa who asks if we know
the sweet influences of Pleiades,

his hand points up to the right
because this is the night after the first

quarter of the final moon pre-solstice
and he is looking west.

That one,
that is the one I will be-- wizard grandpa
square head with a pyramid on top,

minecrafty me exploring the undeveloped
fractal morphing algorythms

I'll-go grandpa, go go rhythm of the winds

drifting in what might have been a micro fiber dust bowl
waste land of 8640 chips and Zunes

(you can listen to books and play, Grandpa, at the same time)

Ah, Sam Harris, you asked a reason for the faith that is in me and my grandchildren know it so honor is at stake

and many other pride sourced sorts of things
contention tension challenging the tensegrity of made up minds

working together, serially parallel on every level of the grid, kid

Worlds with no evil intended,
that can be envisioned, practically, tested,
in Minecraft the game in conjunction
with the suggested myth in
Minecraft the interactive story

and Grandpa's story
in the world he migrated from, the journey way and back to

The Desert in The Rain shadow of the Moral Landscape
we can jump off right here

I have photos, in the cloud

trust me, things hap
ex acted
when
done
didone done
done
AM radio
The golden tones of Johnny Gravel
Kay tripple AAAAAAAAAA

A delightful ditty from the fifties programing,
in the fifties this one goes out to Rosemeade

Ah, the idyllic four bedroom ranch
now on the end of a street that dead ends
at the I-5 cliff.

A tune, whistle, while you work,
it's a hap hap happy day all the clouds have blown off

the doors of my perception
my mind expended, spent fi'ty years on the trip,
weary wearisome make ever much
some effort to discover the act

of effectual prayer
which took prayer, effectual or not, by faith, leap
fast
over the edge,
you learn that, day one, in Minecraft Training
by Brynn Aulyn

next is always over the edge,

of my perception
my expent
effort to discover the act

of effectual prayer
which took prayer,
and fasting,
over the edge,
you learn that, day one, in Minecraft Training by
******* Grandpa

next is always over the edge,

but I did not grow old after playing Minecraft as a child.
I grew old after playing with dynamite in a mine
as a child.

Major POV cred Grandpa

My weapons are not carnal.

Is there a monster if jack
finds treasure at the top of the beanstalk
and says to hell with the suffering
mother so he becomes
a god, in harmony with the giant, doing any good he can?

Let the dead bury the dead.

This is for ever.
What they don't know won't,
will not, would not, has no volition to hurt them, ever.

Good, you know, good. No good is ever bad and
the nintendray dooblay is, like rackabilly,
intentional
pre
positioning me for the idle word of the day to be ******
from hiding into the light of
double entendre? how do you mean?

light. OK, okeh, no other resupposings,

there is never light in a creation myth
until some utterance of the idea of light is communicated

which btw
mean there must be sentience from the get go

and mebbe, I thank on it, other wise, as well

as before, the get go,

it was gitgo, all the way down back ahead to Happy Together,
the song,
British invasion,
very creative hope sorta vibe
Turtles all the way down,
Hawking could not put it in words. He could keep time.

You had to be then, it was a brief history. Funny though.

The old ones gone on, they say okeh.
We good to go
happy hunting. Merry Christmas, take any open door
and listen.

The game is making many decisions based on what you pay attention to. In reality attention weighs decisively more than money in any form.
Doncha luvit, life is so unbelievable, until

you die, you think, you've seen something like what you think is possible happen, you've seen death objectively

anybody can do that right? That is evil.

Killing or dying?

Both.

Lizard brain.

the great game, neath ever more layers of moth eaten cotton and worm spun silk lace

crocheted and starched to make doilies for the parlor
when the pastor comes to pay his due attention

to chicken, made sacred for the occasion
in boiling oil, not golden,  but
fried chicken could look golden in the right light seen from the right height, apron strings high.

I could say my grandma served the man of god a golden dead bird.
And the blessing that was said came upon me

because the window in the top of my head never shut.
Air head. hearer of secrets where secrets
make themselves known, as truth sets one free. Jesus knows.
If anybody does. Wait and see. Be good.

Soyal, Yule, Christmas and the contenders, also rans
in the mid-winter hope leverage ceremony
rites of passage missing
or missed? Missed
Messages of a way promised where there seemed no way.

It is finished. The wireless grid. On the AM dial one

wee zero beat beyond simple,

you find sublime. define that. You feel what I said, Merry,

my wish to you, Merry, message of the promised way to you,
make you merry upon remembering

good wins, it never quits winning.
good, we know, personally,
good, right now,
not bad, we can touch, you and me, imagine that being good.
if feels Christmassy, in that good way.

the old way, where good is, find that. Then later, I am the way, believe me when I say I know where the kingdom of God is,

My granddaughter, somehow, gifted me a Map,
it was delivered by a messenger fly.