Sunday, July 22, 2018

allays 989 - 992

Daniel Christopher June to the Students of Life:



Summer is half done. I've been playing with the kids daily, and writing my articles at night. I'm still waiting on my boss to pay me for the last ten weeks – but I am sure he will!

I've been writing less, but editing more. So these few allays are all I've found inspiration for this last month!


Take Care, Caretakers!



* 989 *

"A rush of thoughts is the only conceivable prosperity that can come to us." Indeed, amidst the doldrums, I would plead with you, Niviana, muse and amuse me till I shiver free. Like the dancer upon the wick, your breath enflames me. Yet you yourself seem a bit clotted in muck, nor have I heard you sing since I can last remember. Lissidy spinning dreams for me upon the loom of night is now my passing game. Duty's chain keeps my purpose while I hope again for you.


* 990 *

"Mother, what have I to do with thee? None get to the father except through me!" Presumptuous child, know you this, before I conceived you, I knew his kiss, and made him of the stuff of my heart, just as the Allmother made us her art, of her living body, and yet you say, you alone know the path and the way? Such impudent tarts I'll upbraid with a smirk, the way to your father you'll know only through hurt. Yet Ama, our Mother, knows better the bliss; laughing she made us, laughing she'll kiss; and toss us like dice on the lay of the day. Now cease your backtalk and do as I say.


* 991 *

When a lifeform endures too much pain it comes to death – an accumulation of sufferings demoralize and disintegrate the organism. Suffering is the giver of the gift of death, and old age, as an extended suffering, draws up that voluptuous heartbreak in which we renounce life in the spangle of its span. Ah, to be the drowning swimmer, whom friends and family avoid lest you in your panic drag them down too, drowning in sorrows till you laugh at the madness, that so much suffering were possible a person — these are the blessings of life, openers of the hidden holds, and keynotes of gravitas, giving that sweet mead of inspiration its savour of abandon and abyss. Ah, my Ama, not once do I cramp, slump, or bleed out this key-turned heart, but you feel it too in the flesh of your being. You've felt the depth, you've cut the knot. I was there with you, with all of you; when you doubted your sanity, I doubted too. When you despaired, the pang was also mine. Life can be such a heartbreak! Yet, life is beautiful! Ama the everfull, grant us more life!


* 992 *

We've felt the Jewish, "Honor your parents," and the Confucian, "Respect your elders," yet America, always in its repression somewhat pedophilic, says All for the Child, with the Republican Life begins at conception, and the Democratic Emancipated Future. Our deepest memories are in the future. Let us recall Oifia, Ama child, walked this land before man or beast. She gave life to what we are. We will grow younger tomorrow.



-- R 88s Я --

Perfection Is Easy