Since "...we(e),..." allowed Liberty's torch to be scorched,

Bell cracked, it's knell snatched, decades ago,

by not exercising our civic responsibilities, duties,

and thereby allowing responsibility's Siamese twin sister,

freedom, to wither like an unexercised muscle as well,

we must first exorcise our society of

self through to other possession

in order to exercise our responsibilities

and again have lefts, rights and freedoms.
  
Until then, what's free, what rights, freedoms

do we actually have?  I, personally am not

allowed to breath, et tu?

If we don't, there's no hope,

let alone assurance, that our progeny,

we say we love, will even live.

Exigency replacing humanity,
merchants, only for more
through to mercs for unending
unneccessary war.
C'est tres facile pour la machine,
addictive personality disorder
replacing human being,
c'est la unvie, no?

Oligarchic vacuum-up being almost
always on only leaves a trickle down,
only, when it's accidentally turned off.  
So the interlocking, laced economic
systems base, scarcity, that they think
they've replaced nature's abundance with,
details violence in all hues of all colors
of the rainbow, not just choosing to not know.

An addiction, like any other,
that can be treated just so.
When one weeds the garden within,
turns the inside out, a ray of Thee's Light
without, And within, it doubling,
doubles again outside, Bliss begins,
peace on wing sings, Soulshine
shared on and on, evolves life, echoing.

I believe in abundance
I believe in wealth
I believe in prosperity
I believe in great health

I believe in angels
I believe in guides
I believe in goodness
And a God who provides

I believe in the sunshine
That lights up my days
I believe in inspiration
Which enhances my ways

I believe in what’s real
And with hope and delight
I bask in abundance
As I share truth and light

As trying to sleep turns impossible,

and struggling to take the next breath overpowers

the terrorism of knowing it may be my last,

I fall asleep for moments 'til fear of asyphyxia

forces my waking anew to the terror of knowing

I could have been dead

and if I fall asleep again I may be,

as well as the twist that

there's nothing I can do about any of it.

As machinations of

travailing winds,

miraging, veil and mirror

narcissistic nihlistic

false-ego, as self,

"...we(e),..." evince to be.



Finding that find,

giving it away,

aliveness being this day,

and further searching,

to be this day

what it is to be this day.

I am thankful for,

The wonder of our

Morning star's rise,

And it's setting

Within our eyes,

On this Beauty Way

We build each day

With great surprise.



Native's compassion taught

Pilgrims at Plymouth

How to live within, give to,

Nature's abundance.

That providence sowed

Reaped graces' harvest,

Fraternity, bearing

Fruits to this day.



We gave Native America genocide, Earthocide.  

Chief Seattle said, "no one can own the land".

Bowing to Above and Below, for gifts bestowed,

Giving, may we, again, walk that way.

While giving thanx

This full Moon's day,

There, but for the grace

Of God, Great Spirit, go I.