day wages; going once... twice...

the bidness will start at 0:dark:30, every day

where is that place you go to buy a politician
is it on the broker's floor
in their hardened-thought drug kitchen
can i buy a fat one out at eBay
can i get a breeding pair
will they take it up the ass on credit
just after all their secrets bare
don't need one for the long term
couldn't find one if i did
just need it to not be sleeping
with worms beyond
the ones inside their head
i need a target for my impulse
to be unruled by idiots
and i figure if i owned one
i could laugh at two-faced splits.

Namaste

letters unposted in haste

i guess i write letters to the one who, in my life, will make a difference to me...

light up this fight club song: mindfully fiercely in F#

[dip your wick into the ocean
coated thick in tar ball lies
bring about a revolution
light it up behind your eyes]

take a step into your future
move your feet on your demand
place your mind in what is heart sure
be complete in where you stand

[chorus]

what is held out from the center
is returned and paid in full
by compound'd interactions
undefaulted - never dull

[chorus]

plant a garden from the harvest
of the bounty of the heart
so those hunger'd weeds of joyless
moments will not get a start

[chorus]

in the falling of these fiery rains
on cresting waves of novelty
in this standing moment stake a claim
and bring about it clean and free

[dip your wick into the ocean
coated thick in tar ball lies
bring about an evolution
light it up behind your eyes]

Namaste

the sound, on one hand

light-hearted Sabda silliness: robustly in (437, 573, 828 nm) A flat, D flat, A flat


crowboys and ninnyans sitting on a hill
what doesn't make you stronger may ac tu ally kill
and if the song is over before you go to sleep
may the sound of it continue in your company to keep

there are so many of the clues around to brighten up your day
that to pick up only one or two may kilter off your way
and bring about a wobble that is harder than a stone
that rolls on top of scratching heads and crushes to the bone

the sound of one hand clapping is composed in many keys
that make up certain actions based on certain frequencies
in the sounding of the full blown chord as little girls and boys
this en-octave-ing will shine out while love spotlights you in joys

Namaste

light another and then two

tending embers of a fire if you will

may we all pick up the thread
woven tightly in our head
to gently pull it to the heart
where love's deep silence has it's start
anchor peace inside of you
let it flow now into view

may the quiet sounds of life
bring about a shift in strife
that we, fully and awake,
shatter hatred and then break
it's grip on others as we grow
may that peace inside now flow

what one candle lit can do
is light another and then two
from each of those will sooner come
greater light rivaling the sun
then within this light we'll stand
as we share love across the land

i've lit my own light that's still small
to offer it's flame to one and all
and tip it outward to the wick
of any candle you might pick
anchor peace inside of you
let it flow now into view

Namaste

un-spoke'd wheel

he says, she says, we all fall down: a jumping rope song in G#

not He
not She
not even only Three
not seven in committee
not nine in councilarity
nor as found mathematically
in 64 tetrahedrony
nor none of all the things may be
in language spoke symbolically
of That seen only in polarity
when Mind-Will-Love knows divinity

Namaste

the sounds of news. ick!

a few terrible things - the sounds of news. ick!: with gusto, one more time, in F

turnstiled banking and goobermint minions
tight copper-robbers with non-bound opinions
flown paper value pried open as stings
these are a few of those terrible things

dream conquered people with purse carried poodles
all playing at reason while scratching their noodles
chasing the tidbits that selfishness brings
these are a few of those terrible things

mountain spewed messes, planes covered in ashes
squat on baked pavement and hemorrhaged caches
of hothouse grown product all burned under wings
these are a few of those terrible things

when the dogg writes
when the muse sings
when it's breaking bad
just simply remember these ongoing things
And try not to feel so mad

Namaste

amber'd waves of pain

America, the dutiful?: coronach in golden sacks - B sharp

impounded truth in specious lies
bring amber'd waves of pain,
from purple blooded travesties
whose palms are fruiting gains.
America? America?
Banks shed their rates on thee
and crown thy brow
with iron clad vows
rewritten constantly.

on pitiful and broken feet
we struggle through our stress
to pay the debts of highborn gets
foreclosed on as we dress.
America? America?
bend down ungrateful knees
and take the rod
deep up inside
and do it quietly.

as some stand proud in hero'd pose
to sell off roads and lands
neglecting lives who voted those
two-faced and greedy hands.
America? America?
your voice-mute lives ugly
and you want still
what has been stole -
to keep not being free!

and even though we fed the world
our babies do not live
except in chains of servitude
to economic jive.
America? America?
your food will last for years
if not opened
til starvation's done
and we swim in our tears.

we get onboard those planes that fly,
securely in our socks,
through chem-trail stained and unblue skies,
keep pounding on those rocks!
America? America?
our dreams are overcome
with nightmared thoughts
of street dreadnoughts
safe, locked into our homes

as we hide in wait for mountains high
to slide into the seas
and sun to bake the tears from eyes
unheard are all our pleas.
America? America?
please do not die tonite
for we all know
what's coming now...
heart's reset to set it right.

Namaste

Sharp diamond softness: Doggy Dharma eDitty in C# minor

as we act, so too we live
as we're taught, so too we give
as we share we kill the sieve
that sticks our mind, a sharpened shiv

it is neither nor is it not
either or but both and
however blowing ones nose
when full is preferable
to breathing snot.

Namaste

pay it forward

Jazz duet: Asynchropated Transcription

floating on sound's wave 7 oclock PST

class 0 civilizations are not conducive
to long-distance travel, take 1 step
spread out 2, step-lightly at 3

blow up the tumble house
'cause the neighbors will see
and come jumping thru holes
to check what will be

you leap - maybe you fall or your wings
fall from you in sheets of fire
from one ball of light to another
i'd say with a silvery hue
a little of white and a little of blue....
the mela will shimmer in vuefinders too
as the glowing sannyasin have readers in tow.

a bit of the saint and a bit of the shrew
can only be possible just within you
eat pine nuts in toothpaste a real fine chew
but the crunchy ones hurt and tend to get spewed.

some kinda rub is that field in our face
when we take shots in blackness
that hide in the loft of your visionshort place
giving rebounded swimming instructions
floating in space will tumble us round
as that ball juggling all licks
our orange burnt blistered face

playing golf with moon might be hard on the fish
in layered formation a base facing four
might take flight under wars wing or
blocked with piecrust baked clear,
noses held hard eyes on full tear
as this inverted mirror is broken
shattered and scattered in dust!

heisenberg's called on the deutsches remand
can hardly hurt rocks crushing minds hard derailed.
the saucers and whirlies been advertised twice
once in dumb headed laughter another
one the other one clear in blind sight

occult fire eats curry and colors abound
while that scarred one shows rainbows
in hungry'd demand of the river of sounds
growing raucous and vibrant as one gets to grow.

Blowing whistles at the dark: acapella

To Those of you that Pose as Our voice:

Gentlewomen and gentlemen,
you are taking some of the last steps
you will ever be taking these days.
Mind closely where you place your toes.
This world is getting so much less willing
to give our place under sol to ruthlessly
mindless unconscionables. Our voices
are finding each others hearts in this
darkness you've spread as wake
in your passages towards irrelevance.

These steps you are edging towards
are those blind faltering ones so prevalent
in mad cows, an abrahamic-borne Creutzfeldt-Jakob
variance, an endemic spongiform
encephalopathy of sheep and goat herders, you see.
your father's fathers grand-get is no longer viable,
rational or fully a human variant it appears.
what with your ravenous consumption
of our own, the shortness of sight, the ears
which serve only, evidently, to hear your own
night-shredded gruntings of perversional delights,
your tongues hanging swollen and droolish,
snouts dripping with the feces lapped freely
out of wizened hatetainted unwise masters.

it has been too long, too terribly, terribly long,
since you and your offshot farrow of divisionary
squinch-eyed mutations diverged from our branched
vibrant family. we've tried - in our quiet ways, in our
rhythmically muted statements of caution, in our
fearful trickled-on exclamations of shock at your
willful deafness, in our rage-filling reactioned masses
to turn you from this cliff'd path you've chosen.
We cry tears of sorrow-laden hearts that we have failed.

sniff... sniff... sniff...

And though we will have insufficiently grieved,
and these tears for you dry in place on our faces,
and our snotcrusted sleeves get pulled up - we, as one,
in our twos and threes, in our tens and our hundreds,
in our mourning-draped millions, will come to excise
and cauterize your gangrenously dis-eased
communicabilites that are infecting this, our body,
that threaten this family of wholeness-seeking members
who are uniting in the dark-rending light now dawning.

Thank you for your efforts. you will make sure the lights
get turned fully on as you leave on your cycled way.
oh... and goodbye ... uh thanks for the object lesson
your passing leaves on our doorsteps, in our heads,
on our hearts... May your Bardo be brief.

Namaste

Blowing whistles at the dark: duet

2, 4, 6, 8, so awfully close, it's not too late...

my dearest sweet Sibylline turk
bless you for your tireless work,
for the truths to be spoken through gags
placed, in our names, undercover of flags,
for the beating and tearing at those walls
built by those men whose shrunken balls
ride hidden up inside in fearful anticipations
of us in our millions reclaiming our nations.

Namaste


For so many things Sibel start here:

SIBEL EDMONDS' DEPOSITION: VIDEO AND TRANSCRIPT RELEASED

and follow the trail of which she speaks down the rabbit hole to burrow through those fouled warrens...

and ask your self if it is pleased with your so-called self-named betters...

and if the answer is NO! feel free; join in the rising ragged roar of NO MORE!

* * *
You do good work Brad. Thank You.

PART 1 (appx. 51 mins) - Direct
PART 2 (appx. 35 mins) - Direct continues

PART 3 (appx. 17 mins) - Direct continues
PART 4 (appx. 43 mins) - Cross
PART 5 (appx. 54 mins) - Redirect & Recross* * *

Songs in the Key of Light 3.2

TPTB: Too Predatory is Too Banal

Look smart! boys and girls. start practicing your dodo calls for the Long Savasana.
evolutions clock has run out on the too predatory, too banal niche you self-evolved for
which, if you could contemplate more than in free moments, should chill even you.

shame ain't it! you didn't figure it out however many hundreds?
thousands? of years ago you decided slavish specialization
in greed engorged excessiveness was any kind of good idea.

that's ok. you gave it your best shot... adios

even though you killed a lot of us along the way,

who didn't evolve down your particularly offensive deadend. we are a tolerant
and robust species and there might be some amongst us that will even miss you guys.
that wouldn't be me. the foulness within which you made your habitat
should have choked out your kind shortly after your chosen decision.

but just to show i've not somehow been tainted by your blood,
i'll offer to chant you through the Bardo. it may, for you, be a somewhat
longer journey than say Genghis or Adolf, but as he was one of your minions
he, like you, no longer count... probably wouldn't surprise me if Genghis was too.

Oh, and just so you'll know, we plan on making the last revisionist change to
history ever in memory of your passing. the stories of your kind will be part,
the cautionary part of course, of the instruction of children.

The Powers That Be will forever more be known as
The Powers That Bent...

Namaste

Songs in the Key of Light 3.1

Check balancing :Blowing whistles at the dark

those poor soon to be unselected officials in
congress have bowed to the floor once again to
those masterfull clowns with more money than sense
and whose functional shelf life is now down two-tenths.

don't worry on whether the doors have been shut
or anyone notice your lines have been cut
the reason you're landing so hard on your butt
is not learning before not to act such a slut.

an apology to most women and some of the men
for those few hundred in the domed house who sold out and then
while we blinked at such bidness took bets at the tables
on wall st without slowing down just because they were able.

(Only, them and their owners slew that one so long ago
that any connection has fallen away in the minds they have slowed
and the twisted thing is - honest able took a fall
so his brother's old cronies could gather it all.)

you only have short times left before we next choose
if you fall to the street or get out on a boat with a couple of clues,
i'd urge you to shake off that hold on your throat,
forget about jetplanes, stop being such weaselly stoats.

the people have spoken, you just will not hear that
your being for sale is not anywhere near what
the terms of the deal was! did we not make ourselves clear
you were there for OUR benefit not yours... you got to steer.

soon all of your troubles will fade clean away
just like you did with our semi-nostaligic 401k
which you gave to those bloodsucks without batting a lash
while YOUR socialist health care got paid by our cash.

you must fail to appreciate all our simpler ways
from behind those cold eyes you use during the day
as you count up the checks you've put out for today
and watch our most intimate lives as you sit there and play.

well we hope you've had fun and we sure hope it was real
as the time shared on our end has been quite an ordeal.
oh, maybe the Too Predatory is Too Banal for you but i hear
they'll be needing some guards at the gates of their fears.

Namaste

Songs in the Key of Light 2.7

The “See it – Sing it” Suite

to be a mirror in the face of fear issued hate

to give back to the mind that will open too late

to go deep in with the out our novel mandate

one only must polish that self carried slate.

if no one is left the stars will not cry

they’ll yet shine on bare rock in midsummer night’s sky

the path is still trod with it’s own reasons why

in situ or vivo or other worldline that energies fly.

darkness is deathly afraid of the light

as it shows it be mere thin shadow we fight

not substantial outposts of terrible night

and it scatters like moths scared in our sight.

evolution’s monkey has grown out of its past

and now stands tall as waves of incredible mass

breaking on false shores we now know won’t last

water-age blindness a curse we’ve just passed…

into the heat of the new forge’s fire

ceaselessly climbing to this cycle’s spire

our mission to work in groupings entire

as the turn of the wheel goes on spiralling higher.

Namaste

an offering to universe...

a serious dog and his jerry bear'd bud

Shorter Chip: truck riding dog that has evoked many comments, among which was "He's such a serious dog." i've always been a little too proud of that one made by Chip's 'dam grandmother'...

pride goeth before this fall

iam just about positive now about coincidence ...
or deja whathaVeyoU, or synchronificance or what
if it's entanglement. and detrained entrapment is the far poll
coming fast, and oh so hot, but
with clarity and resolve and steadfastness, as if true
the stories told us of Great Men, cut
from whole cloth that now, ignobly worn to tatters,
their airs are to be opened, eviscerated
and finally shut.

Namaste

quicksilver'd mentation...

the structures one perceives are nothing more than energetic interactions between the 'world' centered focus point and that point in consciousness that is the awareness perceiving it.

i put Korzybski's General Semantics so-called quotes around 'world' to indicate that there is no separation between that which is apparently perceived and that which is apparently perceiving. (the single quote gives visual aid in distinguishing some 'thing' which exists only as an abstraction from this energetic stew in which we are hopefully aware and for which there exists no referent.)

it may seem iam making an unprovable statement, but that would be so only if energy, and any of it's inexhaustible form, were capable of existing in a solitary and fully discrete state. that is very provably untrue. the act of quantification (fuller comprehension of qualities and characteristics - 'flavors') negates a 'separate' existence of that undergoing quantification. the very act of 'observing' merely increases the field of conscious awareness 'in play' bringing that under 'observation' into that which is 'observing' and seemingly giving it a 'separate' existence.

...

getting one's self overwrought, or even merely wrought, about this 'thing' or that 'situation' or some other 'person' is akin to becoming obsessed with that one little hair on the back of your head that grew at a faster rate than others and insists! on poking out orthogonally as you handcomb your hair snagging on the dehydrated, wind-chapped and cracked skin of your fingertip. that damn hair is part of you. you can grab it and pull, or cut it off, or shave your whole head in a fit of pique, but it is still part of you.

Namaste

Reality cannot be found except in One single source, because of the interconnection of all things with one another. ... I do not conceive of any reality at all as without genuine unity. ... I maintain also that substances, whether material or immaterial, cannot be conceived in their bare essence without any activity, activity being of the essence of substance in general.
(Gottfried Leibniz, 1646 - 1716)

a diminished fifth for diminished thieves

Hey You, front run this...




Home loan, greed dream, blood food

we are a standing wave of liberty
who no longer have a home
for the land we loved that bore US
turned out just to be on loan.

freedom's hopes flow with jagged
clinks from crooked claws of greed
where once glades of égalité
stood sentry to a dream.

we bought the tale of working hard,
staunchly paying with our blood
raising families honestly, tho
worried sick as how to pay for food.

we never minded, much, your directors
& thought your boards were somewhat quaint
until, like jackals in a pen fed gravy
coated tidbits from a genuflected saint,

you lost fullness in your outlook
and sold your word of honor for slightly less
than what it takes to wink and nod
and down a drink, your hand up someones dress.

well it's time to pay the piper full and proper due,
with compound interest and with force,
for playing such loosely intoxicating
counterpoints, non-violently, of course.

If you'll look inside your bonus envelopes and
somehow see OUR million nearly triggered fears,
it's only all that glitters giving your eyes forecast
of coming storms, through cringing bitter tears.

Toasting Ghosts and other simple pleasures

iam reading thru the HalfPastHuman latest book of the Bardo that we seem to be approaching. Go there. Buy it. Read it. Come back. We can chat. i'll wait.

or, if not, before you go...

i've got a bottle of Laphroaig here that's mostly full. join me for a glass. it's my toasting the dead bottle. i'd be honored if you'd care to share it with me.

i've always thought this guy had a real way with
simple words and simple rhymes that say things
that aren't near as simple as they may seem.
who knows...we might yet waken from this fey dream.

Namaste

AUM
Asatoma satgamaya
Tamasoma jyotir gamaya
Mrityorma amritamgamaya

Lead us from the unreal to the real.
Lead us from the darkness to the light.
Lead us from mortality to immortality.


Thank you Billy.

Auguries of Innocence

William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

Burning Down The Mission with Jimmy

Way to go Jimmy!

I heartily and fully concur with what you have written recently regarding the institutionalized discrimination against women and girls and its basis and ubiquity. I applaud you.

You tell me there's an angel in your tree
Did he say he'd come to call on me
For things are getting desperate in our home
Living in the parish of the restless folks I know

You have really opened a can of worms though. By calling out the patriarchs on this one little character defect they share, you are agitating for far more than just the welfare of half the human race. You are seeding the thought that discrimination of any sort, and, by implication, it's cousin, entitlement AND the horse they both rode in on, are on notice that morally and evolutionarily they are to be terminated, with prejudice.

Everybody now bring your family down to the riverside
Look to the east to see where the fat stock hide
Behind four walls of stone the rich man sleeps
It's time we put the flame torch to their keep

You have just fired a massive volley in what may prove to be a thousand year headlong war with structures that have been refined over a period ten times that long, which have been inculcated and beaten into successive generations, incorporated into our languages and hence our brain structure, and most probably bred into our genome. These structures have been antigened into our bloodstream inoculating us against and protecting us from questions, from independent, critical thought, from disobedience, from our self.

Burn down the mission
If we're gonna stay alive
Watch the black smoke fly to heaven
See the red flame light the sky

I realize there have been skirmishes in this war since at least Lysistrata's time 2400 years ago, but the goals that were sought in those skirmishes were discrete and local things like stopping a war or voting rights acquisition and on a much smaller scale than what you and the other Elders have set forth here:

"The justification of discrimination against women and girls
on grounds of religion or tradition,
as if it were prescribed by a Higher Authority,
is unacceptable."

You have just let fly a challenge that has the potential to and a requirement of a complete restructuring and transformation of what has, sadly, come to pass for civilization on this planet. If the conditions you enumerate are to be resolved they will need to be, as they already are being, taught as wrong to our children and the children of our children unto the seventh generation, verily. The overturning of these conditions will demand the same but more of the fearless and fervent dedication and singlemindedness that established them, over millennia, in the first place.

Burn down the mission
It's our only chance to stay alive
It's our only chance of living
Take all you need to live inside

You are calling on the human race to consciously choose to evolve and the evolutionary direction you have enunciated just happens to point away from Abraham (Ibrahim) and ALL his quarreling, vindictive and dishonest progeny. You have laid another piece of wood on a fire that, hopefully, will soon flare up and consume the destructive and antagonistically backwards understanding of life incorporated into those three religions at the root and cause of the inbuilt and core component that results in this discriminatory treatment of women, children and the "other". I have the beam I've removed from my own eye ready to add to the conflagration. I've been looking forward to this for a long, long time. Maybe we can roast some peanuts.

Deep in the woods the squirrels are out today
My wife cried when they came to take me away
But what more could I do just to keep her warm
Than burn, burn, burn, burn down the mission walls

This declaration you have made also carries within it notice of termination for most economic and financial structures that, now imminently threatening to collapse taking huge swaths of dreams and lives with them, are predicated on disparate valuations of individuals and peoples. These institutions and structures have engendered and encouraged as much if not more strife and discrimination and death than the religions they have financed. This shouldn't be surprising as the largest, most corrupt and power hungry of the three oldest professions and the one which joins its twin, cassocked brother in abusing, raping and pimping their younger sisters out as prostitute, is that of moneychanger.

Now everybody now bring your family down to the riverside
Look to the east to see where the fat stock hide
Behind four walls of stone the rich man sleeps
It's time we put the flame torch to their keep.

You are a good man Jimmy Carter. Thank you for your courage. Thank You, Elton, for your words and music.