the calling

lost in between time zones - the west holds me in its palm. where I was born, a country with daffodils, bullfrogs and thunderstorms cradles the child yearning for 4 seasons and ever changing cloud formations. space time comes to me in sleep asking if I want to enter Pleides but I am not ready to jump so far into the unknown yet. a duckling body and swan face. sun brings warmth and a likeness to all those that breathe. it is our pleasure to bring forth sacred sound from before the physical era began. all souls recognize the calling eventually; its a calling to return home. the artist paints finger paintings in the sky. nothing lasts except the nothing underneath the silence. we run towards and away every in and out breath.