Blackethouse

Beautiful cries of warbling perception Mixed into overpowering swells that rise and fall Slick concoctions of toasted spice and bubbling laughter Every emotion in every thought, every flavor of nostalgia Experience, human, animal, mineral, celestial Spiraling into ideas, shapes, motion, people, places, civilization, towering faces The words of them all fly, glide, and sink about my mind A radio tuned to ethereal frequencies that likes its static and adventures. I have no need to control any of you, beyond what I find in my own mind Just let me dance and whirl on your surfaces Finding my peace as I walk on water Home being the pond

After looking through the rooms made of tents and curtains on the flat roof, she huffed and slammed the last white velvet curtain shut. Tying her half-apron tighter about her rounded waist, Meda of Telope Mesa tried to focus on finding her missing clan-son. She could not find him anywhere. He was absolutely nowhere. Once she found that nowhere, she was going to beat him until he learned to-- "Endren!" the searching woman heard. Ah. So, she wasn't the only one hunting around for the clan's adopted son. While it sounded like her husband, Roqenz, Meda knew he had gone to the libraries that day. He might not be back until the moon had risen high