Deep in the Ecuadorian rainforest, shaded forever from light by a dense canopy formed beneath the ever drip, drip, dripping leaves of a thick and ancient stand of kapok trees, rooted in the rotted, but vitamin rich vegetation that lies atop the mud-slick slime that must do for soil in this fetid place, grows a malodorous, mushroom shaped fungi that if ever swallowed by man will prove to be the cure for all that physically and mentally plagues him in this world... if only he could ever find it, and once found pick the slimy thing from the ground, and once picked be curious enough, brave enough, and hungry enough to put the disgusting thing into his mouth, chew it up, and swallow.

If only ever. Sigh...

Nobody is born to fly

we first grow wings

and test the tides

The tides gets greedy

consumes our pride

The forge, the hammering

The will to fight

blisters and withers

from rust to shine

As time solidifies,

strength magnified.

The tide we were quondam denied.

Took refuge beneath our arms

We’ve grown to fly

born dependent

Now we rule the sky

Embrace your wild

It’s the ony way to survive

He cautiously stepped inside, and looked around the room. The room felt cold~ it was quite strange since it was a bright, & sunny day.

‘‘Sire. I have received word from the messenger. He says that the house of Svorth is ready to form an alliance.’’

The Lord smiled and sighed. He took his sword and placed it in his most trusted friend and knight’s hands.

He tried to speak, but his voice was weak. ‘‘I don’t have much time— I need you to make sure that my family is ready to live without me.’’

The knight shook his head. ‘‘There’s still time, Sire. You can make it to see the shaman.’’

The King then heard voices calling to him. He gazed at the knight and told him to hurry.

The knight instead helped the King to stand on his feet. The King chuckled, and said, ‘‘You’ve always been so kind to me my friend.’’

The King tried to keep up in step with the knight. The knight led the King to the enchanted forest.

There they sat by the edge of the forest and waited for the sun to set. The King watched his last sunset. He began to weep and asked the knight to take him further into the forest.

The knight helped the king move closer to the shaman’s turf. They watched in awe as they moved further deep into the forest that each place they left a footprint- a flower bloomed. It was such a beautiful sight!

They soon came across a tiny cottage and before they even stepped by the front door, an elderly woman came to greet them. She beamed with joy and clapped her hands.

‘‘To what do I owe the pleasure of King Tarin the wise coming to seek my advice?’’

The King laughed and then clapsed his hands. He asked the shaman to find him a cure for his malaise.

The shaman began to chant. A gust of wind swirled around the King and he was carried off the ground. The knight tried to pull the King, but the shaman raised her hand and the knight found himself on his knees.

The King felt a wave of energy surge through his body. It made him feel filled up with new strength. He felt the wind’s power begin to slowly fade.

The shaman then bowed her head. Her work was done.

The knight rose to his feet and as soon as he did the King was standing right by his side. The King’s face seemed to be shining like the sun.

When they looked for the shaman, she was gone. Even her cottage had vanished into thin air.

#LaCura.

4/4/2020~Sat’rday

There’s a time for death

and for rebirth,

A time for sadness

and for mirth,

As one story ends

one is retold,

I’ll slay the dragon

to get the gold,

I’ll destroy my world

and then rebuild,

I’ll commit the sin

and atone the guilt,

I’m willing to break

to be made anew,

I’ll crawl through hell

just to get to you,

You’re my poison

and the antidote

You’re the reason I sink

and the reason

......I float

Dear Universe, I know it's been a while,

but please believe I miss you more each turn.

Foul poison blurs my eyes and dims your smile

while noise pollution warps your dulcet chirp.

I reach for you with hands that have been singed,

for fires rage; my greens have all turned brown.

New tears mingle in chasms that are tinged

with refuse of a staggering amount.

This infection grows more deadly by the day,

so potent I can't neutralize the threat.

I beg of you, send help; please don't delay-

fatigue is setting in and my core sweats.

My tongue thirsts for a speedy remedy.

Love, Earth, your planetary rarity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Earth, I'll send the antidote at once,

and please forgive my inattentiveness.

As soon as this expansion work is done,

we'll be together- no more emptiness.

I miss your facets gleaming in the rays

a rich, sweet depth no other planet shows.

It saddens me to hear you fight malaise,

so please dispense this tonic I've composed.

Your symptoms should abate with the first dose,

but balance will take eons to restore.

Repeat as needed; culling must not slow,

for parasites will ravage, paramour.

I wish you well in your recovery.

Yours Always, Universe, my sweet lovely!

What a fool is a man who inquires,

"Where can I find happiness?"

As his child slumbers in his arms,

Yet we are all dense, hypocrites,

For who among us ages untainted?

Blame entertains two parties minimum,

We often hold the antidote; truth

Yet most let it spoil, sit unused,

Unwilling to waiver infectious appetite,

Truth sets free only those who seek,

Habitual creatures scurry deeper,

Quaffing toxins, fantasies ruminated,

Knowledge scours blinding hot,

Searing throes, but begetting sage wights,

Muscle accrued moiling limits,

Pressure induces reform,

Holding back increases tension,

Though forsaken, verity will ascent victor.

Everyone had a call. The call of the wild. The call of other people. The call to write. The call to help. The call for a partner.

As everyone set out of their sheltered space, they sent out that call or followed a call. Each one found their call in the least likely places, the strangest places, in the remotest places, or, after searching for so long, in the places closest to home.

Then one day, the calls stopped. The front door simply did not open. An insidious and invisible banner everywhere said 'Not allowed' and that could be in or out of the front door. Now, the call is embedded in every psyche as they yearn for something outside that front door: The call.

It took another form, as if always it was there but so many people just hid under a ton of commutes, competitions, and silly errands that have become a 'must' or some spoiled soul somewhere will not have their daily dosage of something. Now, the call is out of breath.

The call remains human. As people set out in life, they ask the same question: 'What now?" Some say they will discover the world which has been discovered a thousand times over. Some believe they will find the miracle cure. Some think that the next bestseller will be produced by their hand. And some fantasize that that absent crush will one day be part of their daily lives. Some other people's call is that they will change the world.

But the call has been buried under a collective call. All can now do the same, act the same, deliver the same becuase the one common feature for the call is technology. Now, calls can travel faster than a speeding bullet. And in a minute there is a celebration or chaos.

As people went into their sheltered spaces, now considered vaults, they think what is their call. Did they ever send it out there? Has anyone ever received it? Did those who received it respond? Suddenly, the most distant became the closest because the governing factor is fear.

The call that everyone yearns for is the other. Calls get interrupted by mythology. These people are harder than those people. These people are lazier than those people. These people get it more than those people. Then when the time came for everyone to get locked up, none of these people are better than those people. They're just: People.

Where is the call that so many have learned when they were young? Namely, that they are not alone. Namely, that they have a neighbour and they have to be neighbourly to them. And their neighbours have neighbours and they need to be neighbourly to them And as these times have led to a chain reaction, so should have this lesson of childhood done.

Except some authorative entity interrupts the calls, and sends onmiscient messages that they are the grand protector, and little else matters after that. Now comes the time where every little thing else but that actually matters. What matters the most is the call. The call to stay alive. The call to thrive. The call, for the first time in everyone's conscious diary of history, ALL matter.

Differentiation matters little. The poor are poor. The helpless are helpless. The diseased are diseased. Everyone's call now is the same. Is it a miracle? Or has it been there all along, and we have seen tyrants, guised as saviours, ravage cities for domination and wealth and all we could do was to cry out the call? As we have seen obscenity masquersde as humility, tear a hole in humanity's wall, just to raise the call and see those worldly fall?

It's always been there. In our souls. In our humanity. The call was interrupted. Maybe through silence in our homes, we are closer now to fulfilling the call.

I told 'em life is pain, and I've got the cure.

Life is pain and I've got the cure.

It's nine millimeters wide,

Make's a racket that's hard to ignore.

They say it ain't so bad, you'd best be sure.

It ain't so bad, you'd best be sure.

I said the devil's got few friends,

Might as well give him one more.

Then they'll out me in the cold hard ground.

Then they'll put me in the cold hard ground.

And maybe things will get better,

But I won't know if I'm not around.

Years of aspirations I'll have killed.

Years of aspirations I'll have killed.

And all in the flash

Of a nine-millimeter pain pill.

I see the look in his eyes.

It's how he always touched me.

Piercing to my soul's depths.

We have become one.

No spaces between.

Just us.

Infinitely.