Twentieth Century Thought

I think of Einstein, Newton, Di Vinci, Darwin, Monet, The Mercury Man and when I recognise them again in their now future lives, I question why we always do come back for one another? You do not have to believe my school of thought but I merely ask you to be open to the poetic fluidity of soul to future soul in spirits’ musical motion. Why do ‘we meet again’? As Shakespeare once wrote inspired by Wilde’s notion. It is as clear as day when I recognise the souls of their past like Sting having been stung to death in his past life: to do what he does with those hands of past it would take a Saint in the name of Francis to recognise the tragedy which he so eloquently projected to absolute prophetic perfection. To play with those hands, that clap in unique motion, is inconceivable to man in itself. But to master a Labyrinth of confusion, gaining a musical Doctorate only a matrix could understand the delicacy of that instrumental code. From a man to a wo-man.

In Style of Trudie from council to film, to fame, to la di da romance. A friendship lost in this grail within this dance. We do meet again, a rhyme, in future’s past. But what I fear, year upon year, in every life is that it always arrives too late. When wrinkles have found those eyes and energy has surpassed their dehydrated capillarous veins. Rivers of blood I have seen, oil we have drunk to hollowed death streams. 

Israelites to Palestinian Prophecies reading from the same book written from right to left only misinterpreted by man’s gluttonous wrath.

But where do I go from here? From Bethlehem in Aramaic to Arabic through the Yemen, Spanish ancient literature to France she lay, to rise again and travel to Island they found, a Grail, a pale of water, who knows what’s best? A Sacred Love, I leave in blue blooded metal vest. The Rainbow Golden Prophecy is best. A blessed nest.