Children of the night. Only some will star the sky. Only believers in death will die and fathers must feather the wings of women for the un-feathered masses. Dangle ridiculous. Carrying crosses to phallics filled tombs. The future sails silence through blood rivered wombs that ripple with riddles of cows and spoons and births. Moons and Earth's Sun centered at noon and here I stand court jestering infinity. Fetal fist of a revolution, but open hands birth humility. Now what is the density of an ego-less planet? Must my spine be aligned to sprout wings? I'm slouched into sling steps and tangled with gang reps, but my orbit rainbows Saturn's rings. Mystical elliptical. Presto Polaris. Karmic flamed future in Saturns and Aries. And now I'm a fish called father with gills, type: dizzy. Blowing liquid lullabies through the spine of time. I'm certain of Saturn's rivers and all else is fact. So, baptize me in the stars and wrap me in nighttime. Moon blue, pupil my sight with orange balls of light and echo my plight through the corridors of metaphor. What else are we living for if not to create fiction and rhyme? My purpose is to make my soul rhyme with my mind. Mind over matter. Minds create matter. Minds create fiction, as a matter of fact. As if, matter of fact, matter is fact. So, spirit must be fiction; science fiction; art fiction; meta fiction. The tao of now is here amongst the living in the voice of children is the tao of now. You are the divine reflection of this earth. She does not belong to you, love. There is no need for your correction, all rivers run in the same direction. If you're serving the father, there's no son without mother. Parent bodies discover water bodies and drown. Wade me in the water 'til Atlantis is found on the sea floors of self. I'm starfish and unbound. Heard the name of that mound is Stone Mountain. Underwater volcanoes erupt water fountains of youth. Lets this carnal equation cancel out wind and truth. Swirl me beyond sometimes, drench me water proof. Let Eve drop forever. Rain sunsets on my roof as I sit on the front porch of my sanity, deciphering ham bones to Van Gogh this vanity. Oiled egos. Canvased and framed to be reborn, unborn, unburied, unnamed. A reflection through a blood stained glass window of souls gone yellow round the edges. Carbonated dreams and blurred daily lives. But let family be focus out of swamps blossom lotus. The mighty water blue daughters of infinity, grant me water bodied bhodisativas our serenity as we rise with the tides toward divinity. Yes, we rise with the tides toward divinity. The mighty water blue daughters of infinity, grant me water bodied bhodisativas our serenity as we rise with the tides toward divinity. Yes, we rise with the tides toward divinity. Yes, we rise with the tides toward divinity. Now, we rise with the tides toward divinity as we rise with the tides toward divinity 'cause we rise with the tides toward divinity. It's here amongst the living. It's in the voice of children. It is the tao of now.