THE WEAVE:
Neptune writes
in his diary…
Mars calls. He tells me how routines are like ice: Best formed on top of pre-existing surfaces. Water won't freeze, at 0 degrees celsius, unless it has a solid to freeze upon, like a particle of Dust. He tells me routine can begin as a deep breath you expand upon each morning. He builds them over Time, in the Spirit of Play, like the ancient Masters of Lao Tzu's day. I am a routine-less wonder. And sometimes, I wonder, would my creativity flourish if it were in any Way bridled? Creativity is like an orgasm I am alWays having. But I understand his language. Mars and I speak of what we Love, through metaphors of grammar. It is why we can communicate in these end-days, as the whole world babels. He talks about switching sections of routine out, like parts of sentences -alWays editing and manipulating, but never slave to them. It is a game he is playing, All the Time. I can relate to that part, most of all -being absorbed in what you Love, you begin to swim in it. For me, it is the Ocean of Myth, and the sub-currents of Story we choose to ride, or diverge with. So I woke up today, and I breathed a breath for Mars. And I drank 2 glasses of Water, to pour upon the Dust of my routine-less wonder.
Planetary Signatures 