BLUE WIND IN NIGHT VISION

The purple shade of the liquid night sky was mocking his shadow – inverted and transported a catalyst was missed. Then followed the realization of a moment lost.

The imperfection and precision of the sound of his footsteps was like a drum solo.

Scheme of time and self thus lost, the shaman could be sensed. Passionate surge, frenzied wandering. Lusting for the unknown amidst the forest with the beasts, rocks and gurgling streams. A RAINBOW COULD BE FOUND – THE NEOLITHIC SOUL.

The stories and the breeze in the village at night in early winter, the smell of earth, the expression of earth and all the melodies that freed us.

The sound of seagulls, buzzing distant traffic, a bent finger and an empty gaze.

Blue like the freedom to float, electric fading creating. Creation is the kingdom…

Now he begins to understand the language of the blues. Clouds hide it but you sense it – THE CREATION OF LOOPED EXISTENCE, ONE SQUARED ANOTHER SQUARED ANOTHER TILL INFINITY.

BLUE