Now the sun rises, the counting begins.

Evidence. Zhen-Zhen the Doggo & the stolen cushion.

There is no way to convince Monday to go home 

It just stands there, glaring 

Angry, fists balled up 

Waiting on pounce 

Get out of here, Monday, go home 

No one wants to start the week like that 

--

When life is hard, that will pass.

When life is good, that will pass, too.

It is all impermanent.

--

A math that is poetry, a math that is art.

This is the voice that visits and speaks

in that final hour before another day is born.

This is the voice that makes the connection

between plus and minus, between up and down.

A math of everyday things made vocal

and spoken aloud, so to speak.

That this is the day in which life will add up

to a total that is reliable, a math to be counted upon.

Human beings, spirit and flesh, faith and logic,

need a math that is poetry, a math that is art,

That is god, that is an alternative house to sleep in,

when the flesh cannot abide life in the first house.

Now the sun rises, the counting begins.

the voice says so. Go ahead, begin.

--

May the universe fill us all, as we fill the universe.
Everyone and everything as one. One. 

--

James Lee Jobe 

Wes Montgomery, Bumpin' On Sunset

"I don't do well with snakes and I can't dance."

Robin Williams 

--

"Wherever you go you will find your teacher, as long as you have the eyes to see and the ears to hear." 

Shunryu Suzuki 

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Thanks, James.