Mountain speaks slowly no one generation of us hears the full story its voice the cracking ice in the Spring the hum of wind through the trees a roar of the falls gentle babbling of streams raging scream of summer fire the chatter of stones on the skree Mountain is not an alter symbol or geology it breathes sustains a community including me

Alice in the mirror chews the red flesh of the pig imbas forosnai sees leaves blow away from the tree the wind carries her cloak away branches her bones remain fibonacci symmetry Amergin’s song she hums becoming wind on the sea am tond trethan am fúaim mara her wings unfurl as a hawk from a cliff leaps to plow the clouds

To be free is inside thee Its never been anywhere else. It's the choices that you make Which Will make the world you live in. Imaginations pen is unlimitless !

I believe it's fine It's okay I can grow another day I believe I can stand Without shaking I will not fail when making Something new Something I knew I can do But I'm still scared. AH.

against the rising tide of reality the last desperate vestiges of a shambolic digital lunatic asylum flails to control the cultural narrative megaphone mouths yell word salad slogans as if an audience still listens “how dare you!” shouted to those who dare to reason to hold pins next to the inflated egos righteous arrogance willful ignorance daily random choice of moral offence destructive ideologues the Wheel has turned the flowers of discontent bloom winds have changed direction

the gods are dead we replaced them divorced ourself from ourselves to become them a legion of narcissus reality collapsing upon the singularity of solipsism’s seduction birthing meaninglessness at the edge of the event horizon there is no transcendent Us there is only loneliness longing; paranoia a longing to be understood without seeking to understand a desire to connect be connected without shared purpose to seek to break the surface

There is no such thing as ugly People perceive beauty same as they perceive color They see what they lack, they see what they please, they see what helps them feel good or bad? ugly or pretty? gold or silver? doesn't matter its on them and what they seem to value The colorblind sees no color, the blind sees no beauty Some are blind to what they could see, In people with no malice nor evil, only good intentions Truly forgetting how their reflection Stares at them, sometimes vain, sometimes shrinking They use critical eyes to analyze innocent souls Ugliness is a word that is just a weapon Sometimes used to break the boundaries laid

There is no such thing as ugly People perceive beauty same as they perceive color They see what they lack, they see what they please, they see what helps them feel good or bad? ugly or pretty? gold or silver? doesn't matter its on them and what they seem to value The colorblind sees no color, the blind sees no beauty Some are blind to what they could see, In people with no malice nor evil, only good intentions Truly forgetting how their reflection Stares at them, sometimes vain, sometimes shrinking They use critical eyes to analyze innocent souls Ugliness is a word that is just a weapon Sometimes used to break the boundaries laid

you’ve been asleep too long She said look at you with your bully boo hair and scrunchy eyes face in a book way past dark mind stuck in some twitchy tangled bower those pages won’t show you the bee dancing the way to the meadow flowers the birdsong on the winds smells of dewy grass and pine slow conversations of the mountains the sun is bright today go out and play you’ve been asleep too long She said wake up sleepy head and look at me

within the present there is presence lift the word from the page to find footprints in the dirt the smell of sea salt sound of waves a moment when place expands infinite horizon encircles in the meadow behind my grandmother's house is a verse of song i know because I left it there when I walk i sing the meadow memory and I am with her tea and biscuits oil stove and table