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WE were cutting tiny flowers in the shape of the sun.
Each sun represented a fragment of our hearts.
Each heart represented a promise to be fulfilled,
When the courage comes to burn like meteors
In the oceanic pelvis of madmen whose dreams
Have been left unclaimed on the pavement where
There are no stars that shine; just the butt end
of unstained cigarettes whose lips breathed,
a final sigh of relief when they leaped off and
missed the proximity of greener pastures;
but sadly just fell short of a miracle.



The sunflowers will go here, just around our Thank You tree, where currently all of our tiny stories are quietly seated. From a distance they don’t look so tiny anymore. Maybe they are getting bigger, or I (insert your name her) am getting older; or perhaps, we’ve just grown accustomed to their size that from a distance they look perfect. That’s it. I meant to say perfect.

The family band are on the left. We are dressed in matching vests and top hats, in the shade of the most beautiful bright sun you have ever seen. Even the grass smile and sway a little, in appreciation of our colors. The family band is playing the softest music; all our instruments remained in the van. We are experimenting with a new instrument for today. It is called silence.

A funny thing happens though in the middle of our song. A melody emerges, the sound of all of our hearts beating in unison- an expression of nothing but love. I cannot describe to you what this sounds like. You have to listen to the beating of your own heart, and negotiate with you own silence, and beckon love to follow- then maybe, just maybe, after that; you will understand what this melody feels like.

Everyone is happy sad on this occasion. The newer family band members are confused by this feeling. But we assure them that this is subnormal. Perhaps we will create a new popcorn flavor that is happy sad. This is the one pop corn flavor that will remind you of how good it feels to love; even though love, himself a traveler, never stays at one place for all time, he always leaves a piece of himself behind with you; that way, even if you don’t see it, you will always feel it.

After the band has played, everyone shuffles a little, getting ready for the sunflower planting. Even the sunflowers get anxious a little bit, and start flapping their sunflower wings in preparation of their flight. Oh yeah! did I tell you that our family band sunflowers can fly? The planting of our beloved sunflowers is the special day we announce to them that they’d always have a place here; a piece of land to call home and go back to whenever their wings get too tired of flying; or their hearts get too homesick for the laughter of their friends.

So once the sunflowers have chosen their spots, they draw a red circle around it, and write their names with a super magical, giant, red marker. Then, one by one, the sunflowers ascent from the ground. Some dance a little bit, so taken by the sensation of flying. While others- in their minds, are already thinking of the unbelievably, crazy adventures they will get themselves into; so they zoom right out of sight.

Some of the family band members laugh at this in delight. While others are too busy competing with each other in showcasing the most amazing, breathtaking, derrière shake.

Oh yeah, did I tell you, that with our family band, nobody ever says hi or goodbye, we just sorta do this uncontrollable, crazy , booty shake in slow motion, double time are reserved for granted wishes. & The best part of all is that we, each & all create our own stories to tell.


In memory of BURNINGdAN.

~ Inspiration is always

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