11 28 20

Love is God. God is love. Though i cannot feel my fingers and the sun is red orange on the horizon. Slept in buffalo park. Where old pines scatter the plains and mountains perch on the land with the type of austerity assured in their faithful devotion to God the creator. I laid in through the night in layers and layers of clothes, a few blankets, laid in the back of my camper van. I was only warm when i prayed imagining the embrace of God holding me wholly in loving affection, in beautiful keepings my body bearing my warm soul. I sang hymnals of mountainrise peaks of the sun back up the horizon with a hot wave. The moon full forged along the evening air, stars the moon passed along the way, gave a bright smile and glistening light year encouragement to. I get messages from the stars, yes; and from the moon i get love. To be so unabashedly, unconditionally given light which is in fact love is so much the reason why i love the watchful eye of the nigh watch moon. God surely sets these chancellors into motion, mediating spaces between heaven and earth, soul and body, day, and night, black and white. So then the deep black blues of night bled red at the horizon sun, yellows frequented the shooting up from below, i heard the light blue, but i saw greens mix into the east skies, the blood red settle at a contraposition with orange, a passenger color across the while we drive from buffalo park, shaking, shivering, wiping frost from the windshield, seeing smoke roll over out my lips as i breathed the cool air, the sky hazed in a white modgepodge of this and that color, coffee shops closed then open. I enter.



Yeah i just do my art. Its not about being good or any sort of performance except to be beautiful and to be love. Good art is loving art, its all play beautiful.

I feel a part of my mothers dream, that she could wake at any moment, snapping me into reality, or out of existence. Rather, its quite difficult to say the time period when. Its ever been this play of feeling i’m apart of another persons dream. This is a God dream i believe, God is king.

I do not believe i forget things. I believe others remember wrong. Then i feel back in love with being loving to someone. I’m honest, to my faults; i’m genius, to our God; i’m loving, to everybody.

Seek it; and let it all happen.