BUILDING A GLOBAL COMMUNITY

Think of no one as "them."

Don't confuse your comfort with your safety.

Talk to strangers.

Imagine other cultures through their art, poetry and novels.

Listen to music you don't understand,

Dance to it.

Act locally.



Notice the workings of power & privilege in your culture.

Question consumption.

Know how your lettuce and coffee are grown; wake up and smell the exploitation.
Look for fair trade and union labels.

Help build economies from the bottom up.
Acquire few needs.

Learn a second (or third) language.
Visit people, places, and cultures - not tourist attractions.

Learn people's history.

Re-define progress.

Know physical and political geography.

Play games from other cultures.
Watch films with subtitles.

Know your heritage.

Honor everyone's holidays.

Look at the moon and imagine someone else, somewhere else, looking at it too.

Read the UN's Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Understand the global economy in terms of people, land and water.

Know where your bank banks.

Never believe you have a right to anyone else's resources.

Refuse to wear corporate logos: defy corporate domination.

Question military/corporate connections.

Don't confuse money with wealth, or time with money.
Have a pen/email pal.

Honor indigenous cultures.

Judge governance by how well it meets all people's needs.
Be skeptical about what you read.

Eat adventurously;
Enjoy vegetables, beans and grains in your diet.

Choose curiosity over certainty.

Know where your water comes from and where your wastes go.

Pledge allegiance to the earth, question nationalism;
Think South, Central and North - there are many Americas.

Assume that many others share your dreams.

Know that no one is silent though many are not heard.
Work to change this.

Faithful Readers:

Here is a mix of photos and prose.

THE FOLLOWING TEXT IS ABOUT THE ENLIGHTENABLES... as we each of us may be - by not eliminating ourselves from the bounty of light.

FACING THE SUN

If one were to kneel one early morning in the face of the rising sun beseeching alone and enquiring in a voice audible to the sky, “Mirror, mirror on sacred wall, Who is the fairest of them all…” in vain hope of being declared most radiant, the abuse taken by the personality of the infinite would portend the shrill cries of an empty shell hastening the delirious supplicant’s mortality. So appears the fierceness of a wrathful entity.

Many of us have detected a light imbued with goodness pulsating with meaning and then in inexplicable fear have retreated being fond “of that dull bluish-yellow light from the human [world].” In that dimension of illusions and imaginings the individual prefers to dream of his own creativeness, his being the source of warmth, laughter and even love; benevolent in his eyes, blind to the root of charitableness and righteous awareness.

Such pretense, such thinking, creates only the perception of a wrathful deity - a jealous god – as the consequence of such presumptiveness is the apparent absenteeism of the loving aspects of that infinite personality.

All that which is given in life is by necessity continuous and must continue by necessity. Private vanity is necessary in small doses which serve to keep us living in some concert with beauty and correct hygiene but lop-sided preoccupation with vanity neither contributes to nor supports continuity. Such vanity requires constant propping, as does its cousin, judgement of others. “Judge not lest ye be judged…” refers also, among many other layers of instructive meaning to the threat of our judgeing ourselves according to the tight and mean-minded framework of our judgements of others and opens us to their judgements which may negatively impact on our confidence, self esteem and happiness. No degree of private vanity can withstand such constant assaults on our tenuous well-being.



Self-idolatry designs the pathway to a lack of continuity and thence the absence of steady joy or contentment. Breast-beating, similar to glad-handing and backslapping among the “all hail ye good fellows,” crowd is a hollow experience and an abhorrence to the divine, its precious markings subtle and lovely and as consistent and beautiful as the wind making visible the vibrance of the grasses.

So as we vacillate between vanity and innocence it is hoped my work will yield those words most inspired making effable that state of suspension from which one may enter into the chamber of the divine.

Yet I am alerted to the hazards of overt pride by fellow author Logan Pearsall Smith who stated, “Every author, however modest, keeps a most outrageous vanity chained like a madman in the padded cell of his breast.”

But encouraged somewhat cautiously by Benjamin Franklin’s remark that, “Most people dislike vanity in others, whatever share they have of it themselves; but I give it fair quarter, wherever I meet with it, being persuaded that it is often productive of good to the possessor and to others who are within his sphere of action; and therefore, in many cases, it would not be altogether absurd if a man were to thank God for his vanity among the other comforts of life.”

And it is in the balance of those wits I am supplicant early in the morn in the face of the radiant god, that elusive personality of the infinite, who enchants me each day to be a vessel full to the brim of His love and cognizant of His everlasting patience and sometimes agonizing compassion. All the earmarks of a loving Father.

Defining the Indefinable

And the Word was made flesh.

Let us make one assumption: Every individual is a thought of God. In this then we can see that God’s thoughts give form. And relative to this power, man’s thinking is an attempt to create, to give form. The reach of his thinking is circumscribed by the limited ability to manipulate circumstances but this shadowy activity cannot give substance, organize an embryo, arrange stars or conduct any of the other unwieldy elements in order to give and sustain life on multidimensional planes simultaneously. Man’s thinking, usually starring himself, is nothing more than an idle and futile attempt to imitate God.



Inherent in each member of every generation, regardless of culture or degree of programming or impact of imposed dogmas, is the way to know God, enjoy affirmations from nature and continuity of pleasure. It must be confounding to the personality of Creation that man is not wholeheartedly accepting this gift of comfort but rather chooses to act as the giver, ready to receive credit for Creation. This pose will strike an imbalance until nourishment of the mental and spiritual sort no longer can find its way past the illusions and the deepening shadows of the individual now lost in fantasies.

The ultimate spiritual experience which constitutes the subject of my work is founded upon good health, a mind enlivened by curiosity, an abiding moral rigor, an intellectual life facing challenges daily and finally the willingness and courage to cross into a spiritual field where time dissolves and divine meaning is all-encompassing.

And this is meant as an ordinary experience.

It is intended as an ordinary experience to be enjoined without fanfare, drum rolls, trumpets or costumes. The individual standing next to you on the subway, bus or in the cafeteria may be experiencing this bliss and you would not be signaled whatsoever. The privacy is necessary for that man of power to enjoy without interference or uncalled for adulation.

That individual’s words are imbued with knowing, directed by compassion, are inclusive of so-called degenerates and ‘low-lifes,’ and are creative of loving situations. That individual’s words prompt and allow and may sustain a loving climate… as do the words of the Lord, that personality of the Righteous Teacher who is generously provided by the Father of Creation every second generation (avoiding overlaps).

Such is the bounty of Light.


And from this perspective one may see time as a pulse, as a field which facilitates growth, as freedom from fear and anxiety and as the ultimate reaper of those individuals who have squandered their awareness allowing themselves to be distracted by self indulgences which amount to nothing more than that constant and futile play at being God, the source of warmth, comfort, joy and peace; the one personality who defies all usurpations.

My mentor, Ted Lewis, taught me at the formative age of 17 that “words are organic” and after a lifetime of contemplation and some reluctant growth I continue to view this declaration from heightened perspectives and am emboldened to see this wisdom at work, observing as I have the power of words spoken to a young person who has since matured and allowed them to come to a kind of unique fruition. The seed was planted at its most auspicious moment.

Magi, shamans, contemporary legitimate practitioners of occultism experience the power of words in a way which exposes the impotence of the uninformed, vacant-minded youth of today whose vocabulary seldom stretches beyond “awesome,” “sweet,” or “cool.” (They had to borrow that last one from the beat generation of 70 years ago.)

“Awesome” is the day they stand and face the curtains of fire as they gird themselves to enter into their spiritual realm after a lifetime of contemplation, meditation, correct hearing and righteous speaking – supported by a vocabulary stuffed with words of optimism, meaningful import and facilitation of peaceable circumstance. Words of thrilling import.

“Sweet” is the nectar of bliss when that individual acknowledges that his joy is affirmed by nature in the appearance of apparently sacred forms and those beings which present themselves to the sense of touch and sound and sometimes smell.

“Cool” is the refreshment of baptism in the river of knowing.

The enlightened man may by his words create the context wherein others may abide in peace and discover a familiar atmosphere, a dimension they may call “home.”

Enlightenment is indefinable only insofar as the experience belongs privately to the individual and the way he arrived at the sublime state may be ineffable even to the enjoyer but the words of Light he speaks open avenues for the hearer to follow at his own pace and his gathering confidence is fortified by the memories of his own experiences.






Lewis taught me that the posture then of the enlightened individual is one of waiting.

He offers no judgement nor critique. He simply allows and his words, each of them, throughout all circumstances, all interactions, all moments are driven, formed and uttered in a field of goodness and placed there to expand the horizons of the hearer.

The bounty of the Lord-speaker is such that He speaks and a multitude may hear and according to their own interpretations receive what they can ‘carry.’ The growth is each a separate and necessarily a private matter.

Self-appointed gurus have been multiplying like maggots on rotting flesh and are assaulting our common sense with real boners akin to this kind of gobbledygook… "the unconscious attempt to be the mindbody that you think that you are - the mindbody that this "you" is currently flowing through while you may bruise your right palm spanking your inner child and working overtime in infinity trying to be here now – an inner sanctum next to Nowhereville. blah blah - Why are we listening to this mumbo jumbo. (And I thought that was a dance.)

Yippie, dippie, hippie, flippee trashtalk by Moonglow Pavanandishi.

These self-help halo-polishers aided and abetted by our modern telecommunications invade our living rooms and bedrooms seriously suggesting that their words can be injected into our spiritual bloodstream and thus our lives will undergo a profound change (with cheque or money order, shipping not included). More rot. All the ticket buyers streaming out of the auditoriums after a dose of the guru stagecraft are returning to their own version of mediocrity, long-established by rote.

The appetite for truth is not sated by witnessing someone else’s pretense at knowing. And when watching these priestly types on TV we are attempting to drink from their well, an impossibility and a hoax as cheaply perpetrated on the weak and as deftly as the snake oil salesmen of yesteryear.

TV is insidious on a variety of levels. It is a constant flow of verbiage and sensationalism, loud sounds, gratuitous conflict and the glorification of grief. Boo hoo. Bring flowers. Indulge your false sentimentality.

When watching fictitious characters being presented by actors we are in effect witnessing an act of an act.

And after a lifetime of role-playing actors are apt to lose themselves in a maze of egocentric illusions and anxieties. Clearly dissatisfied with their own identity they humiliate themselves auditioning to be someone else and for the rest of their professional lives are galloping about in the Look-at-Me industry wondering whether they’re on foot, horseback or slithering in the grass. And in this shameful age of nescience who would want to be popular? And yet we have no shortage of candidates in the running for King of the Snakepit.

We are the words we speak. We are the words we hear. The mass of men trivialize themselves by the words they utter as they invite the mundane company of those who utter similar inanities all cornering themselves into dark frames populated by shifting judgements.

It is no wonder that Thoreau observed of his generation something which is equally applicable to our current lamentable situation, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

Such is their choice in the spilling of the bounty of light.

on driving to Nottawasaga, with Angie

I have a depth of sadness within me
that I can never release
may some parched land
receive the imprint
of the wealth of my watery soul
let the absorption through my skin
of the suffering of others
be translated
into some new world's
life-giving sea
may my wife die in peace
and may my sons live
as long as I
and allow me to know
after my power of knowing is gone
that I was loved

-Roger Langen

Commencement Address by Paul Hawken to the Class of 2009, University of Portland, May 3rd, 2009

When I was invited to give this speech, I was asked if I could give a simple short talk that was “direct, naked, taut, honest, passionate, lean, shivering, startling, and graceful.” Boy, no pressure there.

But let’s begin with the startling part. Hey, Class of 2009: you are going to have to figure out what it means to be a human being on earth at a time when every living system is declining, and the rate of decline is accelerating. Kind of a mind-boggling situation – but not one peer-reviewed paper published in the last thirty years can refute that statement.

Basically, the earth needs a new operating system, you are the programmers, and we need it within a few decades.




This planet came with a set of operating instructions, but we seem to have misplaced them. Important rules like -- don’t poison the water, soil, or air, and don’t let the earth get overcrowded, and don’t touch the thermostat -- have been broken. Buckminster Fuller said that spaceship earth was so ingeniously designed that no one has a clue that we are on one, flying through the universe at a million miles per hour, with no need for seatbelts, lots of room in coach, and really good food – but all that is changing.

There is invisible writing on the back of the diploma you will receive, and in case you didn’t bring lemon juice to decode it, I can tell you what it says: YOU ARE BRILLIANT, AND THE EARTH IS HIRING. The earth couldn’t afford to send any recruiters or limos to your school. It sent you rain, sunsets, ripe cherries, night blooming jasmine, and that unbelievably cute person you are dating. Take the hint. And here’s the deal: Forget that this task of planet-saving is not possible in the time required. Don’t be put off by people who know what is not possible. Do what needs to be done, and check to see if it was impossible only after you are done.

When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a pulse. What I see everywhere in the world are ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world. The poet Adrienne Rich wrote, “So much has been destroyed I have cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.” There could be no better description. Humanity is coalescing. It is reconstituting the world, and the action is taking place in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, campuses, companies, refugee camps, deserts, fisheries, and slums.

You join a multitude of caring people. No one knows how many groups and organizations are working on the most salient issues of our day: climate change, poverty, deforestation, peace, water, hunger, conservation, human rights, and more. This is the largest movement the world has ever seen.

Rather than control, it seeks connection. Rather than dominance, it strives to disperse concentrations of power. Like Mercy Corps, it works behind the scenes and gets the job done. Large as it is, no one knows the true size of this movement. It provides hope, support, and meaning to billions of people in the world. Its clout resides in idea, not in force. It is made up of teachers, children, peasants, businesspeople, rappers, organic farmers, nuns, artists, government workers, fisherfolk, engineers, students, incorrigible writers, weeping Muslims, concerned mothers, poets, doctors without borders, grieving Christians, street musicians, the President of the United States of America, and as the writer David James Duncan would say, the Creator, the One who loves us all in such a huge way.

There is a rabbinical teaching that says if the world is ending and the Messiah arrives, first plant a tree, and then see if the story is true.

Inspiration is not garnered from the litanies of what may befall us; it resides in humanity’s willingness to restore, redress, reform, rebuild, recover, re-imagine, and reconsider. “One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice,” is Mary Oliver’s description of moving away from the profane toward a deep sense of connectedness to the living world.

Millions of people are working on behalf of strangers, even if the evening news is usually about the death of strangers. This kindness of strangers has religious, even mythic origins, and very specific eighteenth-century roots. Abolitionists were the first people to create a national and global movement to defend the rights of those they did not know. Until that time, no group had filed a grievance except on behalf of itself. The founders of this movement were largely unknown – Granville Clark, Thomas Clarkson, Josiah Wedgwood – and their goal was ridiculous on the face of it: at that time three out of four people in the world were enslaved. Enslaving each other was what human beings had done for ages. And the abolitionist movement was greeted with incredulity. Conservative spokesmen ridiculed the abolitionists as liberals, progressives, do-gooders, meddlers, and activists. They were told they would ruin the economy and drive England into poverty. But for the first time in history a group of people organized themselves to help people they would never know, from whom they would never receive direct or indirect benefit. And today tens of millions of people do this every day. It is called the world of non-profits, civil society, schools, social entrepreneurship, and non-governmental organizations, of companies who place social and environmental justice at the top of their strategic goals. The scope and scale of this effort is unparalleled in history.

The living world is not “out there” somewhere, but in your heart. What do we know about life? In the words of biologist Janine Benyus, life creates the conditions that are conducive to life. I can think of no better motto for a future economy. We have tens of thousands of abandoned homes without people and tens of thousands of abandoned people without homes. We have failed bankers advising failed regulators on how to save failed assets. Think about this: we are the only species on this planet without full employment. Brilliant. We have an economy that tells us that it is cheaper to destroy earth in real time than to renew, restore, and sustain it. You can print money to bail out a bank but you can’t print life to bail out a planet. At present we are stealing the future, selling it in the present, and calling it gross domestic product. We can just as easily have an economy that is based on healing the future instead of stealing it. We can either create assets for the future or take the assets of the future. One is called restoration and the other exploitation. And whenever we exploit the earth we exploit people and cause untold suffering. Working for the earth is not a way to get rich, it is a way to be rich.

The first living cell came into being nearly 40 million centuries ago, and its direct descendants are in all of our bloodstreams. Literally you are breathing molecules this very second that were inhaled by Moses, Mother Teresa, and Bono. We are vastly interconnected. Our fates are inseparable. We are here because the dream of every cell is to become two cells. In each of you are one quadrillion cells, 90 percent of which are not human cells. Your body is a community, and without those other microorganisms you would perish in hours. Each human cell has 400 billion molecules conducting millions of processes between trillions of atoms. The total cellular activity in one human body is staggering: one septillion actions at any one moment, a one with twenty-four zeros after it. In a millisecond, our body has undergone ten times more processes than there are stars in the universe – exactly what Charles Darwin foretold when he said science would discover that each living creature was a “little universe, formed of a host of self-propagating organisms, inconceivably minute and as numerous as the stars of heaven.”

So I have two questions for you all: First, can you feel your body? Stop for a moment. Feel your body. One septillion activities going on simultaneously, and your body does this so well you are free to ignore it, and wonder instead when this speech will end. Second question: who is in charge of your body? Who is managing those molecules? Hopefully not a political party. Life is creating the conditions that are conducive to life inside you, just as in all of nature. What I want you to imagine is that collectively humanity is evincing a deep innate wisdom in coming together to heal the wounds and insults of the past.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of course. The world would become religious overnight. We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead the stars come out every night, and we watch television
This extraordinary time when we are globally aware of each other and the multiple dangers that threaten civilization has never happened, not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand years. Each of us is as complex and beautiful as all the stars in the universe. We have done great things and we have gone way off course in terms of honoring creation. You are graduating to the most amazing, challenging, stupefying challenge ever bequested to any generation. The generations before you failed. They didn’t stay up all night. They got distracted and lost sight of the fact that life is a miracle every moment of your existence. Nature beckons you to be on her side. You couldn’t ask for a better boss. The most unrealistic person in the world is the cynic, not the dreamer. Hopefulness only makes sense when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful. This is your century. Take it and run as if your life depends on it.

Paul Hawken is an environmentalist, entrepreneur, journalist, and author. Starting at age 20, he dedicated his life to sustainability and changing the relationship between business and the environment. His practice has included starting and running ecological businesses, writing and teaching about the impact of commerce on living systems, and consulting with governments and corporations on economic development, industrial ecology, and environmental policy. His books include Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming. He was presented with an honorary doctorate of humane letters by University president Father Bill Beauchamp, C.S.C., in May, when he delivered this superb speech. Our thanks especially to Erica Linson for her help making that moment possible. For more, see http://www.paulhawken.com/paulhawken_frameset.html

A Collective Happy Gait

This society I want to increase in pleasure. With confidence and what might be described as a collective happy gait. So occasionally I dance at rough bars with smiling women. Let us all be guilty of having such private pleasure.

Recently, I was described as a friend by a man who taught me with enthusiasm when I was 15. Those words meant a lot to me.

Also recently, I have been losing a lover.

I miss him immensely. Nothing could hurt more.

I needed to write this to stay sane.

A Daunting Task and Great Pleasure

Today is #1 for The English Bay Banner to become a hard copy. I thank Roger Pratt for his support.

the flower of Pasto

she’s an Andes girl
with black hair and a volcano
drifts smoke
over her Pasto home town
and she’s brave

the ocean’s horses
blow through her hair and the mountains
take her by the hand
and could it be, Liliany
that Colombia
is in love with you?


grievous angel
your black mane is flying
the water of truth flows through you
and across the emerald valley
your name echoes
your name echoes

and the rivers take you down
on their strong and flowing backs
to the troubles in the valley
diamonds torn
from the soles of your lover’s feet
winking in her tears
hard sparkle in your eyes, Liliany
hard sparkle in your eyes

Pasto girl, they have found you
Colombia’s flower is in a cell and a paramilitary
with sunglasses and a cigarette
is drifting smoke
over your rivers and your cane
over the petals in your name
‘I shed no tears for them,’ you say
‘Shed none for me, for I am free.’

girl from the Andes, coca memory
you are free
you are all the water and the land
mother, child, burro and man

grievous angel
your black mane is flying
your eagle heart is screaming
and across this emerald land
your name echoes
your name echoes

because Colombia
is in love with you
Liliany Obando!
Liliany Obando!

-Roger Langen

Vancouver Architects and Arborists

Paracletus!

A three act musical with terrific melodies created by Ian Hartline of Nelson. Enjoy these abridged excerpts.

BACKGROUND: Seth is our 17 year-old prototype of a brilliant and angry son-of-man willing to challenge God. He goes alone to the riverside and cries out to the heavens... How could you be so mean?

Silence!
Burn my ears no more!

I am.

I am here of the will of the waterfall.
I am the Lord of the fountains, the Rivergod.

You, Seth, have awakened me.
Now what is it you will have of me?

Look! Look! Take a look at this scene!
How could he be so mean? How could he be so mean? -Seth

Yes I see. Oh I see and wonder I, do I:
Why man, why?

Isn't it nearly beyond belief?
How can he expect from Him relief?

He's the matter with this scene!
He's the master of this scene! -Seth

Hark! Yes man grieves.
Darker and darker into the house goes he;
By his own hand does he chart his destiny.
Step by step, beat by beat goes the craze;
And onward I sing my melancholy phrase
As though to walk with head bent and eyes aglaze.

I read the mother's grief on every page
And hear the children hoping happy stories untold;
As i sweep by grandly the burial place of the sage
And into his arms my tears I fold.

Wonder little do I
Except, why man why?

I see white birds in a blue sky and watch the deerskins fade,
And in my body the silver beasts they wade;
But then on a moonless night, I hear this man a'scurry
A gritty thing in such a hurry
To relieve himself of the horror he has made.

Yes, man is of life, the immortal soul.
And yes he may be deified.

But as long as he lives like a bat in a hole
he'll take to his breast a witless bride.

But some day soon, some day soon
the white birds will flock and shout
Love is King, hope and power!

On mountains here and there about
Oh hear the wise birds sing!
Calling his name on every hour...
And watch the bees a'swarm and put it on every flower!

Love will easily await its hour
Like me, I roll and wait, wait for its hour.

Oh hear the wise birds sing.
Love is King, hope and power.

-excerpt from Paracletus!

Seth Responds

Then send this love along
For my heavy young heart;
Send this hope and power on wings this holy hour.
My legs they weary and the roads are long.

Be sure the white birds they speed
And the bees to whisper this name to me
that I may laugh loud again and heed
the silvery side of leaf flutter the tree.

Let us roll while we wait together
Past a golden field where violets and heather
colour the ground about and scampering squirrels.

Make nature promise a better weather.

Bring this tumbling canopy closer
so there I can see these eyes of God, blue or green;
And hear the secret hymns of a caller
who will tell me more, here about this scene.

So rush this love along
For my heavy young heart.
Speed this hopeful power on mighty wings this hour,
My legs they weary and the roads are long.

And even then, wild Rivergod,
My ears may hear the songs of Vishnu
my lips taste the milk and honey
but what of the child gone by the morning dew?

Even then great fountain and singer of sweet melodies,
What then do we tell our little ones
Who ask and crave to know life's mysteries
when we ourselves seem the guilty ones?

What of them, mighty one?

So send me hope,
And rush this love along
for then my heavy young heart to cope.

AND THE RIVERGOD RESPONDS

Be still good lad, take heart.

You see dear fellow, I too have watched
but for thousands of years and millions of moons,
after some eons you mellow.

Under the shimmering rainbows flow I
to hear the ceaseless wind
and the secrets of the swaying treetops.

Flowing 'neath the misty galaxies find me lie.

I hear the calls which haunt me at midnight.
Calling from beneath my belly.
They are the damned asking again for the right
to participate, crackle with light and end their folly.

For me I roll, roll while I wait do I.

Await the hour when comes the prince
to call for hope and the power,
call to the side and above that hour...
Love is King! Love is King!

The wise voices are few.

Rose petal-bearing winds can obscure.

Count them on hand those true
whose pinkish tongues sing so pure.

But then, see wily nature persevere.

And in all of the white heat and blast
nonetheless or more you may hear
His voice so perfect bringing in the last.

Under the shimmering rainbows flow I;
To hear the ceaseless wind
and the secrets of the swaying treetops.

Flowing 'neath the misty galaxies find me lie.

So you see dear fellow,
I too have watched.

But for thousands of years and millions of moons,
after some eons you mellow.

-excerpts from Paracletus! by YT (Yours truly)

A Curious Grasp

From a mirky wild,
dark and tangled
I am thrust into pulsing forms
held there in a curious grasp.
Looked upon in my blooming
by the mind of a perfect entity
Who emboldens me with a fertility
a fierceness raw and revealing.

Kissed by gods tumbling now in
hallowed skies
and beseeching me to increase
their secret bounty of light...

I rise victorious.

Poets of these horizons
have cast their words in flesh
and now call my names, each
of them glorious.

It is I at last who sinks
into your loose embrace.

My eyes alight as I behold
a countenance so sure
its handiwork
Will make pause the stream
of grace.