Ravens' swirl higher, riding wings silver in the sun.

These are Castenedas's silver birds,
or just as good as, to my mind,
held in animated state,
waiting,
still, conceiving the next frame,
in the film of this bitschen
auf
Das wahre Buch des Lebens,
unser eigenes, wo

Wir immer
slipping and falling in the confusion of tongue
authorized in truth exsousiated
by godly exercise, we
shift to a higher mind,
keep the slowandsteadywinstherace pace
then only be as if good, redeemed, as aword
good is god, or good as, right,
sword sworn to show off
phuckyew no longer tastes as foul,
taste the son,
kiss, not taste, yes, yes, all the yeses.. a flood

wisdom is first gentle,
persuasive in the gentle manly way, saying
you are beautiful,
inside out.

We seem to have ventured into further alone,
entertaining our selves into nevermind,
just in time to see the celebration.