Windstorms of Neglect

Dearest Sons and dearest Cinderella StepSister, I regret ways I have failed each of you. From today's view of memory clips, frames as farms of teaching-learning times, my Great Lover Eldest, yet perpetually unfulfilled, AfricanAmerican urban male Thug, driver of van repurposing other's grateful loss, transporting toward highest and best ecologically healthy use. You needed me to choose to continue bedside reading just a little longer, you wanted me to choose family-no-phone daily dinners, just a little longer, to choose not to add StepSister to your adolescent chaos. Your challenges with reading other people's emotional verbal rhythms and rhymes with reasons, speak to me of missed opportunities to invest more eye-to-eye and same-room time, rather than those other more nutritious monocultural choices, the kind my dad made without me. You needed and deserved more time invested in revesting what it could mean to learn together about muse and music, about rhythms with natural rhymes, cultural songs and political sounds and rapping economic voices of poetry as temporal rounds of time's seasons investments in political with cooperative economic treasons. My middle shy wilting flower MidWay Fluent Son. Co-empathic gifted and cursed, Polypathically resonant, and therefore often suffering through over-heated bright, you needed more shared sun-screen time, a partner in your fascination winning cooperative relationships bartering transactors, on-line cooperatives, competing team strategic outcome choices. Life Game Outcome Values assessed against Cooperative Economic and MultiCultural Political WinWin PolyChromatic Objects with PolyPathic ReGenerating Objectives. I always love our mutual wins cooperating "both-and" cultural opportunities to share, avoiding our competing "either-or" risks of wrong presumptions, encoding Game Theory versions of Golden Rules with Natural Ratios applied to all golden-natural ecosystemic relationships, transactions bilaterally light and dualdark, 4D (0)-centric, Tao-Soul Revolving RealTime, BiLaterally Revolutioning LeftThink to RightFeel to Left sadtry again. My youngest son who has no bodylanguage filters, who cannot voice his temperate words with languaged rhythms and icons, to you I leave a human race that has already paced too fast to be sure we can sustain a future that could support your incubator and maintenance medical needs in your own future's less viable infancy. Who will sing with our damaged children in their own keys of rhythm and joy and laughter, where will your song be heard as cherished elder-music memory? Who will remember to tap your shoulders and back and bounce your bum to the beat of gospel and rhythms of blue light speaking through your skin "I hear it too, as do you?" Who will hold you through internal earthquakes rolling across inside neural plates seizing chaotic network rhythms, waves of seismic volcano rebirth, struggling waves surfing up and down in as out as in again...? You I leave your mindbody as your beautiful song and daily liturgy of dancing sounds in resonant colors of your warm love of light and scents transcendent echoes of singing voices past, ringing flowers singing flowing through your veins, beating your thumpthump heart, breathing your in-out balanced flying mind as body. My struggling StepSister Princess baptized in embryonic toxic chemicals, mixed slyly with MotherManna, you are born to Yang monoculturally through Cinderella life, as Princess or Ugly StepSister, your moment by moment, hour by hour, day by day choice. For you there can only be one Sun Goddess of EgoMe, for whom all others were divinely sole-vested for worshiping your Cinderella feet. You vigorously want and need and expect Prince Charming good and beautiful and truly healthy and kind, loving and good-faithing, listening and fulfilling each hope instantaneously, whether for more or critically far less, to have sole control of all you know, exterior robotics serving interior ego-manic, to Yang about by day, and struggle against all night, playing WinLose games of confrontation, either-or assumptions, when both-and are so obvious with more bicameral-temporal-neural balance than you could ever become. I have given you all I have to invest, all my Zero-interest EgoLeft/EcoRight MindBody could think and dream of to play and sing and story in our puppet fable rhythms of superheroes and romantic witches of hope as a shared magic smile over humor that is most certainly not politically correct. You sing up, I dance down. You say smile, I smile frown upside down. You say yes, I say notnot. You say why, I say forgot. You say did not, I say you caught me, our co-elating truth, StepSister don't know how to give a ****, to return our opposite with her own, economy of survival in her made up why dogs eat cats dipolar dissonantly dialected neural challenged world. Dearest Sons and Daughter, I regret our losses and celebrate your resilience to keep coming back into our new day, despite past windstorms of neglect.