The World spins still in infinite depth, extending out in all directions. Still the atoms of reality cling together and make a worldpicture. Gravity continually organizes curtains for the Mind, and pulls the eyes downwards to sleepy habit. And slumbering still upon the tongue a dew-drop dances, shimmers, shakes and falls.
In this monthly mish-mash mashup from the dreaming skull, we push for Ahimsa. Awash with words, we reap the verdant verbiage and gather in wordage of worldwords and woolworths wobbling walabys.
And of the blue moon we sing.
And if Gillpington wanders afar from his beloved labyrinth, tis only to return refreshed, reflecting free energetic panayric.
Lyres plucked skillfully tell song of a Great legendary Worldegg hatching - hinting at futurity and potential Great Things for Humanity.
And turning on a gloaming cloud of Keltek mizzle, the shadow falls of the evening, darkling the ivy that clings to the little elder tree.
Going beyond PlayWords: