We spin like a top, wildly free out of control laughing man burning frontier.

Devil-may-care notwithstanding any voices outside our self-inflicting cosmic story.

Walking through jungles break stepping ten thousand miles to nowhere in particular, waiting for none other than self-made millionaire within understandings of soul contracts and purpose-driven life.

There it is! Up ahead of the roads crossing with lights flickering from haze to constant glowing.

Stepping beside the comfort of sure-footed knowing, stepping into a great Canvas of uncommon themes of collective spinnings.

Knapsack over the resident artist with brushstrokes dawdling in technicolor dippings of past and future holdings.

Piecing together fabrics of past-life, traumatic anecdote, recalling the voice of creation speaking loudly – go forth and multiply.

It is time – drawing high – elevating songlines and tales of prophets and sages before mixing in present-day phenomenon cleansing truths.

Calling to the winds – gathered friends feathering new jingles found deepest in the jungle source of ancient ones – co-creating breathtaking views mirrored by loved ones and hollowed bones shapeshifting self-receptive existence – serenity between the fabric of creation.

~Ani Po