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.