God is love. Cooler weather warms my soul. Art is for the soul. Any way we get breath by God and the days go on beautiful. I love the colors. I wear rose gold monk, my hoodie. Monastic at the cityside. Bespoke by light utterance, artist in the future writer’s oeuvre today. I am stood beside singing wind chimes. My world personifies. She’s hesitant at times and when with the wind choirs and angels can’t compare. Well i;m not one to compare so that is why. I waste my time wise watching light fixtures in skies, clouds change colors with the passing winds of time. My world is imaginative, at the ink tip of my pen, at the point of perception i co-create. How i see and her and feel is why i can smile unabashedly this morning. All the colors fit for a good reason in how.
Anyhow i’d like to pray now. I’m always in prayer you know. The light of the morning sun in my eyes, birdsongs melody sweet as can be, winds run smooth olive hands, healing touch to my face, my hands, my feet. What’s exposed.
Thank you for another day alive, the colors, friends, family, art, avenues of immortality and austere play at instancy, from where I am i am a brighter future. Today. I am strong, i am love, i am pretty beautiful glistening in the light forgiveness, sanctity set apart by gospel to love as i’ve first been loved by love itself; God.
Love is the most powerful force in this universe. Planets are born of love, i take another breath by love, i paint a masterpiece by love. All i do. I pray to paint east mastering peace in my hands, help through by the flowing flowering of pure creation. My dance with the first Artist.
God lives in the acting idea, the dream divine, the rhyme and in and out of time and space. Orchestrator of my hour, make my way love today, make known to me love’s way, birth the dream of me, divinity, creative intellect at greatest artist to live in love. Playing keys for millions, stages, pools, mosh pits and dancehalls. Galleries, museums filled, solo is not solo with the all-soul, still they call the solo Louvre exhibition my own and i’m here pointing to you God. Best seller in the freed soul. Blue Hour, Headlights, Untitled Document in hands and through how – seeing loving eyes of all readers, all seers, all feelers, we are active dreams, have we the opulence to not wake up? Having found ourselves awake already. In love already. Ever since ever; living to the extent we dream. I dream of divinity. Art for all and every and one soul of love. Myself singing, painting, writing in presence of God for all my days in the how, in the now, in love.
Sunset shone orange hues of another world i’d like to have visit me again. I’m at Lux Central finding my company with artist collectives enhancing their most adept attentions to beauty in their individual arts. David does company creative collections of currency, real stuff, no monopoly money. I’m writing, living my art. Sharing ear to hear the table beside me talk on Indio, now we’re talking about the blessing of life because if you haven’t heard i nearly died in Indio, was transformed in my stranded days. Found fully alive in the love of God. The lady next to me talks how good her pants look with her shoes. A guy with red curly hair’s mixing a drink at the bar. They talk Star Wars like it’s their last night’s dream.
The sky through the windows greyed some bit now. Songs play about being lost in a flow of life, spirits in the head. The head of our day most resembles one with fine execution to beautiful play.
Our country enters an essay on the nature of renewal. My spiritual currency is in curations of my collective collection of those spirits in my head. Have you a laugh, a fire atop your head like those first apostles follow the ascension, the descension of doves, the God of the universe as a child, virgin mary accepting prophesy that she, she’s to bear the son of God, and way back the ebay of our universe in one single speak of love, of all creation founded on the word.
The artist is a medium for the Spirit of creation. Each name is a flowing stream from the endless abundance of beauty. We as people have the most beautiful thoughts, our feelings so rationally aesthetic, i think it best we share.
The art of our time was created long when since I was born i’ve had a feeling of 776 lives preceding mine and at 777 lives with prayerful premonition i have quite the proclivity into eternity.
Golden amulets fall to dust, filigree shuffles among the rust. By and by i spent my time in love of the people quoting Les Mis, speaking ‘To love another person is to see the face of God’. But i need no war story, no election, pandemic virus, or near death experience to tell you life is beautiful, best when lived into the moment rest assured in being present as you present yourself. Solitude is met with angels, choirs. Visualize, believe, begin to see. Love is the most powerful force in the universe. Perception is the all-recreating force. Time and space can be eluded, whenwith dreams divine, return us time nad space again in sovereign hands. The birds sing and are fed. God is the grand Artist. God is love. God is the best friend, a good judge, a clean renewal and the finest of active dreamers.