Sometimes, the jade air
Sometimes, the forest’s verdant breath
Sometimes, the moss pond
and the frog’s plonked exclamation.
Sometimes, the confused helix
of crossed branches, the sun’s
enduring eye, blinded here and there
by the cliff’s stern countenance.

Each of these can manifest
as the soul’s reflection,
For how else could it know
its own existence?

Only chance can help
the soul to find its way
through heaven’s web of lumens
and planets’ eternal orbits,
an endless procession
of hollow moments to be filled
by a sudden eclipse of expectation,
a quick downpour of regret,
a shadow of fear, a memory exhumed.

Yet the final rush
of enlightened immersion
is only a license to begin again.

To sooth the mind with planted thoughts
That are in soil that let roots grow
Mighty aging healthy tree
Whose seeds which we continue to spread
On earth that mighty men do tread

It seems more like a spiritual being, than a big bang meaning
He wrote be kind, so don't go changing it, trying to convince ones mind
Who will create all your free choice in the world?
They wrote to convince ones mind, but who’ll create your choice in this world?


Why have human beings only one thought, is it because there is  only one true meaning?
While every believer with unknowing blind eyes, trying to persuade everyone else’s mind
But who’ll create all the free choice in the world?


Strangers always taught me, to be mindful of what I speak
Just hop on board and preach about, our great son the saviour
My friends always taught me, to be mindful of who to trust
Telling me, ‘To be mindful of what I speak, because it might just make peace’


Human beings are not so trusting
They tell false teachings, that convince someone’s mind
But their words are not my own
Their thoughts try to convince someone’s mind


After many sights and after many fights
The truth was on my side
But, who can deny, when it's a lie?
Their scams and plans
Because we all create free choice in the world
So listen to ones advice, just agree with your life's vice
Your life vices


They said, ‘My words would bring me down’
Then, they even screamed abuse at me
They forced on me, a holy comic book
It’s passion was felt deep down inside
So, go and create all free choice in the world, people


Strangers always taught me, to be mindful of what I speak
Just hop on board and preach, about our great son the saviour
But, the pastor never told me, I'll go to straight to heaven or hell
He's already sent his archangel, who just came to see me
Then I realised what I had to yell
This was always deep down inside
God always treated me like a long lost son

Human beings are not so trusting
They tell false teachings, that convince someone’s mind
But their words are not my own
Their thoughts try to convince someone’s mind.

Mammon, their false god of avarice, says,
their 'final solution', extinction,
to steal everyone's everything,
can't be stopped, notseeism will rule.

"...We(e),..." bay, nay, you will be separated from
the State, as the Constitution dictates, the people
will rise again, your treason will end, Oyate.

Somatic revolution, each one's foci of attention
solutioning with all life, betwixt Earth and Sky,
evincing to be alival, not survival, lifting sights,
inspiring visions, meditations, actions, sweats to Sundance.

While we look to the 7 th generation, with our climate crisis strike,
starting 9-20-19 and 'the Green New Deal', we also mournfully remember
'Wounded Knee', 12-29-1890, where 300 Native Americans were exterminated.

Most of them were women, kids, a root of our king-kong sized terrible-two's
current war on kids, mostly Latinos.  I would fly just for a day, as a mayfly,
the Beauty Way, if I were more me, rather than as long as an eagle flies,
selling out, destroying, killing.  Viva la evolucion.  Wakan Tanka.