I recently learned of a game called yes.
Laughter became more available than conversation.
There was often an itch before this invitation presented itself.
A nagging burden of the addiction to disappointment that comes on the back of the negative.
Personal oppression persuaded by a larger debacle.
In some ways, my soul was looking for this new joy.
In following the merrymaking I am becoming more languid in gestures of light.
A-ha is a newfound lovely for my repertoire of isms.
A safety of sorts seems to accompany this lark.
Birthing are new definitions for lines and shapes.
Communication a brilliant opportunity of silence or nods or smiles.
If I am lucky there are strokes and squeezes.
In apocalyptic times when words can be mere pawns, the transformation seems more serious.
This pursuit. These proceedings of love over hate. Fortitude above fear.
Concepts are without body. Without Earth.
Bravery is a requirement to this acknowledgment.
Baskets are being woven around the ones who choose beyond all resistance.
Deliberate proceedings for what is greater than denial.
Bowing to the women, to the wombs, the water, and the vigilance of the alchemists.
A vulture enters a dream.
Discovery of consent for aliveness allows the bird to signify nothing less than rebirth.
Fellowship amongst humans is where this pursuit may lead.
Adaptation of ecology will happen no matter.
And the indivisibility of who and what is left will continue the game called yes.
