Signatures

 Throw me your bombs and weapons of war.

Throw me your sorrows and sufferings.

Throw me your ambitions, your pomp and circumstance.

I’ll accept them all into my nothingness.

From my vastness of not being they will emerge again as butterflies.

They will flit about in the Garden of Venus,

Quenched by the storms of Neptune,

Guided by the light of Alcyone,

Taught by the wisdom of Celeano,

Comforted at the Hearth of Merope.

After you have learned to dance with the butterflies

You will sing with the stars.

You will sing with the terra.

You will sing with the mari.

You will sing from the now.

You will sing from the then.

You will sing in harmony.

You will sing with melody.

You will sing for time.

You will sing for tide.

You will sing with longing.

You will sing with satisfaction.

You will sing with me and mine.

We are the winds of change.

We are what never was and will not be.

We are impermanence and improbabilities.

We are won’t and can’t and don’t.

We are why.