the wind that spins the time array
the red that rains the mind away
the line that wins the costume play -
the sun that brings a shiny day;
heaven’s little earth is a powerful core
and the blood is the dirt and the mind is the roar
the imagination furnace always spinning it pure
and traversing the sea and arriving on shore
i was grown in the groves
i was picked by a rose
now the sacred fire grows
no one sees no one knows
heaven’s hat is safe and warm
and so i’m sitting out the storm
the wooden barn the paper sky
the humble saints go marchin’ by
they make the music in the din
they see the sacred water spin
the wonderful path to destiny
workin’ like bees in the mystery
with love like a tree in the history
branching forward and blooming
in the mist of mind,
cousin of the sunshine;
and all the light can do
is put a lid over the circle
and spin with you.