Flow Of Clear Awareness

I love to see the lights come on warm and golden in the evening’s misty damp grey.  These beacons of homely glow and cheer lure the weary home, like the disembodied souls of the universe flying home to roost.  This priceless golow glister that shines from a sea of earthly windows on the houses up on the hill, it speaks of the sanctity of home, of the beauty of warmth and shelter and also of the hint of adventure as your life crosses that of another. 

Lovers play in some of these lighted looming rooms whilst in others, solitary sit the solo, lost in thought and musing the universe through an eye to the sky.  Spangled light orange as barley and glowing from within, seeping and dripping from gambrelled windows and gable-pitched rooves.  Each window a splodge of golden orange paint in my oil-painting, my structure of dark blue brickwork against the city sky when I was youth incarnate. 

Casting away sorrows, the rebetis takes up an ancient lute and breaks into song.  Now let the light shine. 

P.S.  You might have noticed that The Caterpillar frequently comes out late these days.  For that, we can only blame the influence of the white rabbit.