My fingers tap against the keyboard. The stars linger above my cross-legged, country trance spilling across the indigo campfire sky. Jasmine ransacks my senses dazing my context of the red, wooden bridge, and my head tilts upward both in flowering pleasure and earnest reverence. The stars become you. We bathe in naked sunlight. The heavens fall to earth, and I capture its ecstasy  in bodiless waking moments.

Might as well be the law of demographics
In that people who are favored in some places
Are not going to be cared for in others as much.
The news is definitely a place...
After all: North East West South,
More than one place to correct a leading message.
It's easy to get haughty
And to just as easily plunge to distress,
But the body needs to feel both
To remember it's mortality.

Some people are so busy trying to direct karma that it ends up biting them in the ***.

Flowers in a field look so lovely.
Flowers in a field how your colours burn so bright.
Flowers in a field with breezes sway so gently.
Flowers in a field reaching skyward craving light.

Wild grasses grow amongst such beauty.
Wild grasses grow to set the balance right.
Wild grasses grow not in awe of what’s around them.
Wild grasses grow knowing they are equals in His sight.

The feeling of the saltwater getting through my hair, is amazing to.

The balance you make while standing on your board, like you're finally completed.
Like my heart is on the right place.