Goodmorning. Goodmorning. Always I was haunted by stories of beginnings. Endings never so much interested me. I guess, well I guess now – as I write – a quit clear reason; death. Can’t cheat that. Sort of a wall everyone runs up against. It never interested me. I don’t see how it could trouble anyone. The one certainty. So? But beginnings, now that’s where the opportunities are. I can begin anything, anytime. Can begin to walk, to turn left, right, left again, who’s stopping me? To the Thunderbird café. To pull yourself up by your hair and softly land yourself near a clear meadow, open space in the woods, aletheia. Once I dreamt a child playing in the sand, near a river. I come closer, it lifts up its head and opens its eyes. I know its me. It took a while to fuse. It’s allright now. But it took a while, it s a gentle process. Pitfalls all around. So light you become drifting up, up is the natural thing to do. Time comes to draw closer. Take it up a level, seek out new dangers. Keep it real. I can do that, easy. However, keeping it real means standing still, means gazing around, same as digging in where you stand. Be still my friend. You can not go rising up here. You stand still. Well, I can do that now. I’m in the here and now. Sometimes I see the shyness on the faces of those risking their hearts -sweat pouring- just to speak up in the company of friends. Hard lines on the hands of those working their fingers into a mess. I no longer need a full moon. I am running. But although in a here and now of my own making I lack the lust for detail and for most life is in the details. Oh, I can grasp it, I can see it, man i sense it miles around. This then is my next move: to sing that morning and choke in it. Growing up. When they said sit down, I stood up. All I’m going to do, is coming out of this dream with my soul untouched.