No rain in sight, heat rising, through this physical plane into the ethers, the vibration of life, like razor, shiny against relentless moon. In mind, there is no relief, no creation, but mind thought, negativity. The water, the sweet wet of possibility lies beyond, in imagination, (I Magi, bringing the gift of self to self), where heart and spirit wait, open, healing, murmuring just below the surface, in dream, metaphor, the mighty subconscious knowing, like light. Now. Now. Walk into the stream of being, douse yourself, bathe your soul, listen to it, feel its power, revel in it’s message. Love. Love. Love.