A late night rose rides at dark...
Giant egg houses line spaghetti streets
enveloped in darkness and carried by hope.
A narrative shall explain the rest......
I speak to you from beyond a cold dark night...one where comfort relieves loneliness...and love insights and denies no one...speaking with a keen agenda and riding close to many borders, there is a sight to be seen, so let us not waste another minute...it is a place where questions are answered, abundance restored and affliction forgotten...As to what and where it is I am referring...come with me on an artistic tale and find an untangling of inquires..for it shall be known, and known only, as the land of Humane..
Speaking to you through music, poetry and space age technology, this is a story of a place and way in which there were people for whom to which they referred to themselves as Humanes-(the sound of rain rushing thru). They proudly thought that was the most apt description of themselves since that was what came first in all their decisions. You see The question was always, for them, when coming to a junction, was, is, this humane?, or often, is this the most humane way to proceed? Therefor a race of Humanes they were.
In this land and way of being were many attractions and mysterious adventures always waiting to be discovered. One of which was the traveling of the inner land and to of which the discovery of unimagined encounters with other friendly beings who had all been doing what they had and were always amazed at you and your unique moments which had gathered about you so, so to meet you with joy was the only meeting way, which all Humanes and others were so very grateful for.
Misery unleashed like a beautiful yearning for the color in a black and white sunset that doesn’t exist. And the world behind the mirror.
Small talk with meaning which is easy to understand
Winning by default a race you tried to lose out of mercy
Then to tap a spring and feed a well and grow in a field and wait no longer for a love that’s been dangled like a carrot for to long, just around the corner, one more second if only I tried a little harder, is it now in reaching distance?
And then just the fog of a damp spring evening.
The doorman all on the watch and the suburbanites in their trucks on the way home.
Back to their perch at a distance, where they can see the city with some perspective, different from us.
Us the dust the dirt the sturdy, the broken yet working, the usual crowd, the ones in the stairwell who see by scent, and never think to ask, yet rather choose to wait it out.
All the while knowing it could do better.
In humane you meet a man who invented the wheel, man who invented the lever, and woman who invented the sail..they r all close friends and live together.
