I saw the seeds of the revolution
dawning
crowning

I heard the propositions from vermi-culture
informing the shift
working it out, sifting it out.

I surfed the micro-ripples of influence through
effectures and prefectures and
excused the old guard through heartfelt
conjectures

There was only one logical conclusion so I
quietly and patiently sat in between
with all our relations.

Under the shade of old growth discernment,
I washed through the oceans of my subconscious,
sifted through the compost for kernels, and
mined the midden for wisdom.

New kingdoms arose from that which was expressed.

The raw materials were ubiquitous.
These re-building blocks pointed to
a platform for the gifting economy.

Then one day I woke up zipping around Los Angeles,
toying with a couple of keys,
Sancho Panza and me, all windmills and wizards.

With only one logical conclusion
I took a chance, learned to dance, and
bid my pretence adieu.

Unpredictably, having lost my lance, I won the war.
Now I sit upon my throne with two mats at my door.
One says presence, one says future, and
both are welcome.

Both are welcome because it is here that I found my agency within my sovereignty
through submission.