Give me the reins I'll ride through them The distant bay of a dog Tells me I'm near. The birdsong says breathe, be, The sting of resistance says now ~ I have the whole of Spirit within Me. It never left, I nearly shackled it to death, but I managed to resuscitate the collective story, it's an epic spiritual! Rejoice and giddy up! ~ When did our stories become doctrines? When did our beliefs become more important than what is known? When will we remember our purpose? (Please use a number two pencil only, class, when filling in your answers. When you are finished you may leave. Good luck...) ~ HEAD-LINE POETRY http://www.cnn.com/2016/05/11/middleeast/baghdad-market-bombing/ ISIS CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY The battle holds our imagination hostage. The blade touches our neck. Let it rest now, this murder, Reminder of our arrogance, A dalliance with war's teeth. ---- http://www.cnn.com/2016/05/11/us/planned-parenthood-shooting-robert-lewis...
(The Weaver's Song)