THERE to HERE

   Missing things in Tucson?
   What was, what could've been?
   Then there was that wall.

   Anyway.

   Within, Without.

   The Indigos are here--always have been.

   But one day, in an ancestral beginning of days, the webs of deceit - an all encompassing lie - were wove into the light of the soul and the truth became as a devil.
   And the light outside the darkness? Who is it that has bound the spirit in chains of gold and glory--a heavy burden of selfishness?

   So much light and still so hard to see.

   A light is hiding in the darkness where dreams speak of truths. Where the webs are only players and must everyone play true. We all go there. It's part of us. But daylight and consciousness break and our journey there becomes like that breeze on that day when the sun shone gentle on your face--but that was a long, long time ago like a tattered black and white photo you found in a dusty book of faded stories, a photo of people you don't know but should. Or like, nothing at all--less than forgotten.

   Anyway.

   We are all mirrors.

   I live in Portland now.