fragmentary evidence: blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies….

Stillness II. LJ Frank, Artist.

REVISED…. by LJ Frank

The lyrics of Irving Berlin’s Blue Skies come to mind as I fathom the riches of life’s lush valleys flowered with no promises, save the numberless hills of colorful, wishful thoughts.

Ancestor’s fossils haunt my imagination – the leavings lodged in primitive remnants within each of my cells. 

Ancestral offerings feel hidden when they are quite revealing like the metaphor of a mountain hiker carrying the gear of consciousness and conscience…. seeking affirmation.

The primitive human found buried with a fragmented necklace of thorns placed on the skull was never a sacred allegory for if there were songs singing praises those voices are no longer extant and have long vanished, tens of thousands of years ago.

How many of those seeking the imagined place of fulfillment in their head are willing to harm others to acquire gold-plated ablutions, but the putrid odor of their wickedness is not cleansed.

Smiles from corrupted hearts can’t wash the blood from their hands, as the negative cast of their campaigns reveal a sickness of the soul – for their  judging is a reflection of self, oft times blurred by the loathing of the other.

Bounded and unbounded histories sitting on book and digital shelves point towards modernized version of echo chambers of terrorism…. The insecure soul is discovered when  the “will” suggests to be free is found to be chained.  The fear that grips the mind of those wanting an authoritarian to decide for them must ask – who decides who is to be sacrificed.

Value of s person’s labor lies within and without…. an owner sells his business for a profit and the new owner with a different accent and skin tone seeks to survive and the process continues…. the intent of profit, the question how much profit is needed – an ancient struggle recounted on stone tablets and other primitive instruments thousands of years ago in different parts of the world.

To harm and destroy others is to destroy oneself and reveals the ultimate form of narcissism.

Are there enough hours remaining to appreciate the sacred allegories of existence scattered about in the fragmentary evidence in our possession at the present minute.

Nothing but blue skies from now on.