ooooh child, she sang to me and she sings to you and you and you whosoever can put the pause on and listen up now... things are gonna get easier, oooh child things are lookin brighter. she who be one of the seven muses, shone so brightly in the dawn's early twighlight, yes ma'am. I listened with my eyes, saw the guiding twinkling light. my guide my gawd! never fuss. no nevermind just hush. no nonsense. no never no sass back, for she be gone. she sings listen up my little misunderstood torment, no longer be dormant nor doormat. her instructions clearly laid bare. no deviation. no derision. no intuitive innovation. child of flowering blossoming yearning to be heard. this, she sang, is divination. she is the shit. so the visuals passing through my mind's eye in river, streaming endless past present future follow my lead, she sings. pluck it out from the universal consciousness and take another here, another from there, layer up layer down, grandmother's quilting dream time. now one two three awaken and get to work, work get get get! make thine expression true maketh mine art from the hearth of your soul and cometh unto me singing, ooooh child......

James Hargis