holy fire
It is night here in the Oasis, and that is rare. The Oasis usually hangs in the inbetween times of sunset or sunrise, because I dwell far too often in possibilities.
But tonight is not one of those times. And so stars burn fiercely above, each one a beacon to the next step towards desire. With a thought the roof above my quarters in the Hacienda is gone, and the light shines down on me with cool, cool clarity.
From Wikipedia:
James Truslow Adams coined the phrase “American Dream” in his 1931 book Epic of America:
“The American Dream is that dream of a land in which life should be better and richer and fuller for every man, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement. It is a difficult dream for the European upper classes to interpret adequately, and too many of us ourselves have grown weary and mistrustful of it. It is not a dream of motor cars and high wages merely, but a dream of social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position.
Winds sweep in over the Oasis, winds from the East that blow through the lush greenery, making it sound like the ocean rushing in. The stars look close enough to touch, and so I do…
