XI – XIV – MMXX
God is love. Heaven meets earth in light, blinding and calm illuminations: i am home within. God lavishes lip litany and magic manifest moreover in worshipful adoration to a beauty eternal persisting, enumerating life.
Last night, prior my sleep, still dreaming i’d found my hands unlocking keys of a grand classical grand piano. The piano being large enough to occupy near Carl’s whole living room, where my paintings will soon adorn the walls with wherewithal of holy acolyte and to him a soothing mystery crafted both actual and abstract in paint. Paintings, a self portrait in blue/yellow and an abstraction called death of the son are the ones. Included in them will be Carl’s art collection of African art housing forever antiquity, stories on woodrums, stories of wondrous far off lands and the meeting in an internal common land. Kachinas. Modern art. All sorts of masks and tribal statues occupy the space.
I being the liveliest played for what felt to me an eternity that i could keep going forever with my hands keying on the grand concert piano. I played what I felt, fingered feeling with astute freedom; I turned the living room into a great hall to match the great play of my worship to God. I was King David with a new grandiose instrument to match God’s play and my capacity to be played instrument myself. I played, i play, i pray and am played.
Beethoven, Franz Liszt, King David are my inspirations. No one knows me like the piano. I traveled golden to me a palace i heard harmony halls in me, oh my heart is wet with waters of an endless ocean. I’m at the piano with her, playing for the Beloved. Finding the space and time keys insurmountable, most treasured and simply she my hands feather the black and white doors of sound. Music is always playing for me. Everything is music. When i play, i only tune into this endless flow, surpass human hands and be found in finding the sound of that glorious second stretches eternal, eternal in a second.
So the sun’s a-shining, bulbous here light poured like petals unfolding spaces between time, petaling my mind. I listen to the track I recorded playing and how i’d danced around some mystery on the piano, searching for a hidden sound and realizing all the sound, the easy ride of absurdity and totally being caught with the flashes of beautiful light, that the discovery is important, the journey is the song, the being found by a beautiful sound.
Morning persisted, i never am not dreaming. Piano keys, some hieroglyphic resonance kept playing in my head as i went along my day. Walked, listening to Franz Liszt and finding rhythm in the step. Stepped up to the bus stop. I’ll be meeting Alicia at Peixoto Coffee around noon. She’s so lovely, she’s a writer too. Last we spoke was bespoke by poems, journals of our days. Whenever I see her we pick up time again in our own world, the two of us in a world only we share. She’s a dream to me.
“Thank you driver” voices, echoes off the bus. Man in blue bandana and dreads does a dance to the front, unlocks his bike and gets riding; we driving, myself locating a feeling in a state of self composed vagabond. I’m question to meaning, just being alight like sunlight and i’ve a fight for meaning. I feel stupid at the thought, leave it, ink full absorbed in page and my day passes by with light fixtures and waving trees in the big swinging door windows.
I can tell who’s been on the busses longer. She’s dead locked her gaze with a secret glow in her eyes, she anticipates every stop and sway and hardly moves, shes a statue on a bus. I’m just along for the ride.
No one knows me like the piano plays Sampha in my headphones, my home. Some people call it soul he says, that something ride, free flow and easy eternity in my hands, in the sound i’m home. Everything is music.
With a hot coffee in my hands, autumn’s turn, pages flipping in the wind; all the more i’m home. I tap my foot to solitude, i’ve my own step. I think i’d like to not feel so lonely. I;ll write a portrait of a few people.
She’s pink and yellow haired, her foot swaying in the open air, leg crossed from the man across the table to her. I see her look and watch me while i write in my peripheral. I’m bored deeper into my own world. Now Franz Liszt’s Adelaide soothes me again. I feel purified by the piano. Recalling pursuance, Coltrane’s groups’ third track on A Love Supreme, the endless in the clashing drums, piano pure and absolute, Coltrane breathes the breath of seraphim sweet, bassist breaks time.
To then the present, i’m found by tree-speak. Alicia and i lay in the park, in the grass, small universal in the shade of a particular tree, listening to birds, wind in leaves, kids playing basketball, blaring music from the trunk of a vehicle with speakers larger than the car. Alicia draws and she writes I believe, lay’s flat on her stomach soft in the grass, we look occasionally up to one another, past one another. The recording of myself playing the grand piano concert I play for her and i and our nature park.
On this train tracks we walk, i ask her how’s best to love all people? All people have their individual ways of intimate love, the love they feel is positive support for adherence to their group, and what i’m after is a what for how to consistently and truthfully love all people. Enact change. There must be a way that all people can be loved, this is what i desire, how best to be love for all people. I am returned to God, God is love and gives life, the gift of life for all people.
Alicia and i sit in a shade tree siding the train tracks, we talk dreams, family, conversation itself, her jobs up so she’s in a new frontier, terra incognita, Wonderful steps of a life. We talk art, nature begins all art, childlike, writing, drawing on shapes, life is young and life is beautiful. Responsible wanderers we were. Walking the front of city hall, balancing on stones in the large fountains, practicing possible names for flowers and trees and i listen into the wind a-while.
At the coffee shop again i’ve the feeling my life is a play i love watching play on. I’ve humble love by life.
My imagination sings send me an angel right now. I watch the world fall around the light silhouette of a woman. My imagination carries on, and God is love.
Nature grounds me. in the city my only grounding is in the sky, the occasional tree or flower in a vase.
loving living lasting
i say in my mind i’ll buy a ring with an eye on it as i stroll into the religious store, stroll on out with a lollipop in my lips and a new blue diamond gold eye ring for my pink fingers.
Lia and i get passed by a waving bus, we sit at the bus stop, we talk loves, living, lasting. I explain my girl situations. She gives me advice on acceptance being the universal love.
Set free the fears of today, i let angelic thoughts encompass me, i give Glory to God; i lay up in bed, lamp off, i get back up, lamp on, paint a black and white self portrait.
“Human beings at large, the people, oversoul, interconnectedness; howsoever you say everybody, see everybody is able to be loved. I learn in the black and white self portrait painting how few truly a picture reads true black or true white, allthemore is the space between a best selling picture to an open eye. This is a universal quality – in every particular instance two points are to view from and the space between. What’s the measure between here and there, one number and another, lover gone and lover found, light and shade, sun and moon, truth and false, forward and backward, love and love. And in all things there is love.
Faith extends the hour. Prayer puts into action, nearest to here, moment in moment communication. grace extends gifts, mercy is pardon, sweetness is kiss embrace by God’s presence; essay is big language on easy subject. Objectively, i write sea to glistening sea, poet on a love prescription, predilection to instant language, privileged to be obliged joy in every circumstance, polite to my friends, my artist is wonder and awe, perfectly saved to forgiveness in God’s grace, mercy, endless sea of one soulful love lavishes in every loving lip.