Welcome to the first dino-caucus. We are here to select someone to leads us through the current mess that is all these shooting stars—they are SO bright and keep so many of us up at night. A few million years from now, a being known as Zeuxis will be quite deft at creating an ideal from select characteristics of distinct individuals; we should apply his scheme to our current needs. Spikey, you seem to carry with you the best traits of each of us. Would you be willing to run against Rexy’s elitists and Plessy’s geoid-obsessives? In order to convince the dinos at large to vote for you, it will be necessary to see yourself as a hierophant-asaurus, able to both convince the urgency of celestial matters and, as well, your ability to address them with effective action. Oh! That is a perfect campaign slogan!: I Likey Spikey! ; )
Brain cloud came with stormy thoughts. Hoping for mauvais quart d’heure led to ever-frets instead. Shaking off akathisia required resurrecting buried power of will. Others prognosticated inclement weather would remain over the head, but feet chose to strike splashes in the face of each fiercest fear, out-stomping obstacles with the simplest ploy: joy. Now, regarding weathering wettest weather, the gree is to be free by means of released glee. ; )
Will baptising the self—with lead of neither pope nor camerlengo—afford full benefit of renewal?
If self receives from self each x and o given, does soul feel properly adored?
Crafts of a fictile realm remain quite fissile, but those willing to whet their vessel in the wet may just find they will inner strength beget.
If stairs up go to heaven, then stairs down go to hell—oh, no, you will not love yourself any less than the best that is deserved: spirit-wash and learn. ; )
A sagacious mind is not necessary for the heart to secure fated beginnings. When one embraces embraces as the oriflamme of life’s reason, the macabre loses ground to greener pastures, not in distant dreams, but in present presences. If summa rerum is progress, then let love flow freely between the lines that connect lives. : )
Point of view shows no hipparchy on its way to battle as atop marching heads it begins to mizzle, but, rather, here and now, current view point limns topography’s gist as traffic’s flashy rattles akin to a neon balefire striped with electric drizzle. ; )