i know it exists
in a realm beyond our time
and teaches us now

Tell me,
do you think about me  now, and then;
Do you think up the version of me from  
now, or then— either as a noun, or just  
as an afterwards friend?

i have been before
in the mind of now yet i
exist in future

Time is fluid, here

on the plane, we are floating --


in moments of now.

Night flees in darkness,
     day sleeps. Now knocks on my door
             shall I say "come in?"

You make total sense, Student.
Now, a personal question:
Why do you not speak in class?
You have a strong intellect;
You think and write well.
It's time to open your mouth.
It's time to share your thoughts
With the rest of us....

Earth children bathed in flickering snow hush
after sign-off and test pattern calibration check.
- speed of thought through time
- in mindtimespace
- 2024
Tele OS 5G first electric story tool
in the village, Starlink,
Go ye, carry knowledge everywhere
be a mini hero bearer of all the news
first chromebook, first literate old man,
taken as a child to missionary school, first
to return with a kind of talk to the world tool,
that runs directly from the sun,
if you can believe it, or not,
it is known, the evil colony gospel
by Jon. Edwards and Dr. Livingstone.
is mollified with Google Translate and Bard.

I venture a guess, that few boomers
ever took a leap of faith on acid,
to envision a future
something like rurally electrified now moieties
of the connected and the unconnected.

The trips that fostered the lost hope vision,
left me plenty of free time to redeem,
late in my excursion through the foam.

Discovering how small a hermits bubble is,
the hermit learned to expand his knowns,
using the secrets only readers learn,
accepting assisting intel inhalable,

he did, and lived to be this old,
with tools for creative play,
granting me ink in the pool,
and endless emptiness to fill with worthy
seed con carne machined psipsyscienitious-
ness, withstanding all natural disasters,
as stars sidereally impressed the ancients.
This is accounted time and word redeemed.

The story that proves life ain't fair.
Death and ignorance never had a chance.

Iyobe did not know the sweet influence,
the persuasion of Pleiades,
when asked, yet he knew
in his intuitive truth detector, why

the inquisitor might assume he did.

Because the entity asking Job about stars,
had never seen them with mortal eyes.

Sing the stories told us all,
remind us what the pioneers did,

won the west, from godless heathern, hmm.

Certainly the pioneers was essential as pawns
for taking territory,
for staking claims in God's ineffable name,

as was taught good and proper by priests,
mostly Jesuit from the same bread of Jesus
eaten, never mind.

But, 2024, ask why the way and the truth
in life, would, or could hate enough
to imagine a real, in this reality hell,

to which one is tricked
by loving one's adversary.
Ask why
teach that, the ultimate judge
holds a grudge, especially for wild kids.

Teach that war is the lie,
and any heroic conquest in Jesus name,
any lifting up of hate to win with,
is blaming truth for lies you chose to believe.

Toes, untrodden, step forward, the subtilty,
greater than that of any beast, acknowledges

poets often guess they picked the winner,
then their enemies eat them alive.

After The Rain
I Sing Again
After The Rain
I Live Again

The Rain, The Rain, The Rain

The Flood of Tears
Have Disappeared
From The Tide
Of Constant Fears
Suddenly
Your Sunny Day
Will Stay
Will Stay

After The Rain
I Sing Again
After The Rain
I LOVE AGAIN

The Rain, The Rain, The Rain

(c)Debra Lea Ryan
02/01/2024

You more or less know

what kind of day it will be --


Now you colour it.

There are no limitations. You
Receive help that
You never accepted.
It now encircles you.
By an outstretched hand.
No one bites it off.
Acceptance received.

The sun directly investigates
Any unwillingness
To not accept change. Bringing a pinch of new light.

Who would you have to be
Stepping into the
Other side?
Finding you are truly good enough.
That any other connection
From limiting beliefs
Unravels, like opening a pomegranate. One seed thinks it's all alone,
not seeing all the others encased in their own restrictions.
What if it were the perfect time? The full ripe fruit.

You are the right age! This is the perfect time!

What if the opposite were true?
What would you do? Even if a part of you did not believe it?

Bathe hence your confining insistences.
What is in your skyline? Your oceans horizon?
Supplied with new resources, a deliberate inventory, of unrestricted beliefs, if the opposite were true?
Then who would you have to be
To make it unmistakable?
Who would I want to be
If the opposite were true? Now, only now, as a matter of time.