Worm Hole

A late night rose rides at dark... Giant egg houses line spaghetti streets enveloped in darkness and carried by hope. A narrative shall explain the rest...... I speak to you from beyond a cold dark night...one where comfort relieves loneliness...and love insights and denies no one...speaking with a keen agenda and riding close to many borders, there is a sight to be seen, so let us not waste another minute...it is a place where questions are answered, abundance restored and affliction forgotten...As to what and where it is I am referring...come with me on an artistic tale and find an untangling of inquires..for it shall be known, and known only, as the land of Humane.. Speaking to you through music, poetry and space age technology, this is a story of a place and way in which there were people for whom to which they referred to themselves as Humanes-(the sound of rain rushing thru). They proudly thought that was the most apt description of themselves since that was what came first in all their decisions. You see The question was always, for them, when coming to a junction, was, is, this humane?, or often, is this the most humane way to proceed? Therefor a race of Humanes they were. In this land and way of being were many attractions and mysterious adventures always waiting to be discovered. One of which was the traveling of the inner land and to of which the discovery of unimagined encounters with other friendly beings who had all been doing what they had and were always amazed at you and your unique moments which had gathered about you so, so to meet you with joy was the only meeting way, which all Humanes and others were so very grateful for. Misery unleashed like a beautiful yearning for the color in a black and white sunset that doesn’t exist. And the world behind the mirror. Small talk with meaning which is easy to understand Winning by default a race you tried to lose out of mercy Then to tap a spring and feed a well and grow in a field and wait no longer for a love that’s been dangled like