"Holy Crap"

We are what we are. So much unknown unexplained everything so jazzed up with hype bright colors fear greed all the major low vibe food groups. However the real stuff is here everywhere in us around us all the holy crap. So we just do what we know how for the good.

Not being 'exactly' Christian don't mean I don't believe in Angels, and faeries. One doesn't need the other. As a pissed off deity once told off Job.

"Where were you when I laid the foundations of the world?"

I don't know about Job, but the Angels, and assorted Sprites were around

doing the number crunching, and catering for the work crews.

I make my pretty things for their own sake. I make them so they will exist.

I make them because this is the world I want to live in.

Live in even if such a world can never be.

Like a soul dreaming a beautiful aria in hell.

I find good natured kindness everywhere.

It just insists on being there. This is where Hope lives.

I just found a box full of tiny stuff.

I had thought them long gone.

Vanished in the storms of my life. Yet here they are to comfort me.

Years ago. I'd do the midnight to six am on air shift. This happened because many hosts sometimes just wouldn't show up or the recorded programs just weren't around. So as the on duty engineer I'd read stories, and play music.

                        This to keep company with whoever was out there.

   Sometimes my radio pals were about. Max Anne Sharon R. Paul. We'd hold forth by telling stories      of our collective century of on air radio adventures. Sometimes spontaneously I'd howl like a wolf.    I'd howl, and howl. My dear friends would howl with me. I invited all listening to join. We'd howl       Into the deep deep night. We in the studio, and those alone with their radios howling.

                                We all of us would howl into the dawn.