Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

God sleeps on high in his puffy white
cotton-candy cloud palace of peace and perfection
dreaming up all of this and all of us,
at times a lucid dream
in which he consciously alters events,
creates and destroys the world all at once,
over and over and over,
again and again and again.

Now he slumbers deep it seems,
the dream unfolding neither aided nor hindered
by his immaculate volition.
Our lives, while yet tethered to his massive mind,
are acted out within the freedom of our own strong wills,
the fragility of our spider web egos,
like children playing alone downstairs while father sleeps.

Will he make us breakfast when he rises?
Will we go to the park and play games?
Will he be grumpy and make us clean our rooms?
Will he take us in his arms and say, “I love you”?
Or will we always have to do these things for ourselves?

While the lotus sprouts and blooms from the belly of Vishnu…
while Bastet purrs and rolls over in her sleep…
while Allah receives his endless chants of praise…
Christ makes ready his chariot of gold,
applies the final burnish to a staff of iron.

Peace,
Barry
(originally written 3902; slight revision)

Good to go Barry. The moments are right.

Conversation today between me and my wife about the change of seasons:
Her: (in a sad little girl voice, with a sad little girl frown) "I'm putting away the fan, which means summer is officially over."
Him: (smiling/grimacing) "I don't want to talk about it. I'm just putting on a jacket and pretending nothing has changed."
And then we both went, in unison, "lalalalalalalala"

Thanks, SadLuckDame, for understanding.

Peace,
Barry

It's all about the lalalala to me. I've not opened a fortune cookie in ages, best to do as we do.