take my hand and climb with me…

eighty five degrees: ‘our finest gifts we bring…’

Little Drummer Boy ~ Pink Martini

eighty five

Spirit, given form. Each having, their own. Beautiful beating, blood drum. Precious life, exquisite dream. Come to honour, divine. On earth. By playing, a song. Sung, by the soul. Individual dream, the Great Heart. Dreaming itself, alive. In love, endless light. Limitless. Gift given. And ours, to give back. The glorious, beat. Ringing, through veins. And ventricles. Miracle, of blood. Singing, through form. Each heart, rejoicing. This is, the present. Greatest gift, our human. Privilege. To dance, the beat. Unique.

I played my best for him…

One comment on “eighty five degrees: ‘our finest gifts we bring…’

  1. seanbidd
    March 1, 2014

    How are all the pieces going in the champagne to the rain, In a land where those golden syrup sunsets, always chase for hours towards the honey moments before the dawn, The paintings, and reflections you carry, the places you’re painting now, In the ways they lift each colour, up through a shifting day, I hope the times of travel might always find you writing, in the places as the inky blue fades, Another rotation, a slow spin, where the spirit of the great heart lives. Happy Autumn in the season leaves fall…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


This entry was posted on December 24, 2012 by in Summer and tagged , , , , , , .


%d bloggers like this: