It’s all an illusion.
We are the stuff that dreams are made of.
Delusions of grandeur.
God’s special project, Earth.
It certainly stands out from all the rest.
Water is life. Is water God’s blood?
The atmosphere, His breath?
The Universe, His Body?
The Stars, His eyes...
Where there is no escaping His gaze,
Or the occasional Solar flare.
Then there is me.
His souper special project.
I certainly stand out from all the rest.
Yet I remain hidden
From all the scrutiny.
I’m not a god like Krishna
Being born a little differently.
Am I more or less likely
To be born in His image too?
Or am I just an anomaly
With my twelve toes and bi-fid thumbs?
Perhaps, I have some left over recessive ancestral alien DNA
Coming to life thru me?
Or maybe, I’m just a mutant all mixed up into the gene pool
Swimming thru life doing the butterfly stoke, feeling it’s effect
All the while sipping poetrysoup
With a perma grin plastered all over my face
And the word ‘SUFFER’ birthmarked on my other cheek.
The Earth is a living entity
A living sphere
spinning and gyro scoping
Forever generating and vibrating
Living Energy
With a swirling nickel/iron liquid core
that reaches out thru the Cosmos like a cosmic door
Forever protecting the floor of Flaura
The stuff that dreams are made of everyone
Hot magma blood that cools into a crust
Grounded by gravity’s leash from the sun
An atmosphere of gases that gives
All life breath
The Earth, she breathes
just like the best of us
Living here
- Blessed Be
(the lungs like fresh air)
The waves were gently beating
against the stark white sand
as we stood together gazin
out where there was no land.
Just endless, rolling ocean
with a caressing, scented breeze.
The stuff that dreams are made of
that brings you to your knees.
Our bodies close together
our hearts in perfect time
We'd finally found the one place
we thought we'd never find.
Lary Houston
Lost in the stuff that dreams are made of
Floating on tails of whales
Tasting the sunrise without approbation
Sleeping in crumpled up sails
Losing my voice in the heat of a song
Lighting the stars with my candle
Piercing the poppy's delicate paper
Earrings too dainty to handle
Diving to depths with the cavern's unrest
Breathing in water for air
Shards of the sunlight pin prick my feet
like padded fins pruny and bare
Tumbled and tossing in moments engrossing
Lost in a brief afterthought
in the sweet lucid seconds between night and day
when my dream residues are still caught...
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