tubular

[anirbas]

in dream time rivers run
in rainbow colors endings
are always beginnings
are always endings
are always beginnings

in dream time Time isn't linear
or circular its coiled and spiraled
bent and crooked a meandering
cosmological tubular intestine

in dream time rivers run
in rainbow colors endings
are always beginnings
are always endings
are always beginnings

[artolmaeus]

I missed this, I woke up, and upon waking, I remembered the dream time, was not black and white, so, I surrendered....once, woke, I could not always stay, but I so remember it, exactly....there are so many endings, but what is beginning, now, in times some people would call horrifying, I have never been at such peace, and at a point of ego death, that there is no longer anything to defend, or apologize for, but love, when it is the best word, is not a word at all, that too, is a gift, that only being in Dreamtime can make possible, so no matter what happens, I still got my didge, to dust off, and try to still be able to get a circular breathing going...it is such an optimistic poem, well, it is appreciated, later than should be, but it is be

[artolmaeus]

I wish I could talk to Amnacar, about getting past the Fourth Way, of not having the voices, not having a sense of madness....she was on that journey, she shared some of hers with me...the last I talked with her, she had a cancer battle, and I sense she left, alone, quietly....but oh, I miss Carol. Always wanted to make some sort of trip to Tasmania, possibly to catch ole Chris Wynter, methinks he is part aboriginal and some of the shit he went through, defined him, along with Fiona Tulk...it was a strange trip for me internetically, oddly, much of his work, reminded me of the hopeful writings John and Bruce Klingbiel were putting out with Spindrift, research, I did make that trip to Washington state, three months before they mutually left in Smyrna, much of their research was interesting, at least to me, between prayer, faith, remote viewing and some other incursions into the eigengrau, my own magnetism to Dreamtime, as it is in aboriginal tradition, also with the people both at the Acona Pueblo and in Oaxaca, Mexico....I had some fortunate and tragic meetings, and all in all, applying the Dreamtime to it all, balances like some Buddhists say the Tao does for them....how far we go from some meaningful things, to some unmeaningful things, we just get lost.....as such, a poem, not too long, but like much of David's work, it speaks volumes to me, because of some initiation I accidentally got tangled in, gladly...