yell, fire.

I guess when it rains it pours. and gratitude open doors. without poetry our lives dry up like the desert soil. refusing waters of wisdom even in great monsoon. write-if you have to write. and, well, i have to write. so i am writing. and i pray that i don’t fade, that i dont falter before its over. I, am an animal. like every other creature on this planet. So I pray, may I walk with as much beauty and grace as they do. In every experience, from the profane, to the obvertly sacred, we have a choice. We can allow it to come and go-without distilling its essence or we can take hold of it and literally squeeze the very truth out of it. It may sound violent, and a bit sexual but I believe everthing lives to be stolen. The Teachers teaching, the Lovers love, The Visionaries vision. And if these living wisdoms are not stolen, they deteriorate, as unharvested crop. Theres nothing wrong in that, death that is. and theres nothing wrong in stealing every once of life we can. Because life is ever giving, no matter how much we take with reverence and RESPECT there will be more. and in fact we may only able to access the root of our longing if we steal the whole plant. that is to say the time is past to hearvest-half assed. if we want enlightenment were going to have to steal it

back.