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.