Serendipity came. He knows my language well, speaks it with enthusiasm and charm. He wears his art like a banner of The Journey, that comes in over indulgences with the want of being seen, and known beyond the surface of the story laid in technicolor on hungry flesh. I know this story well beyond the skin of protection in the want of creative passion. In rhymes, and flags of colour, we weave our Siren’s song to the coo of possibilities with no care for the rocks and waves, the depth and tides of the up ahead or over there. The now shimmers and gives it magic moment drinking up like drunk sailors after a huge bounty in the cheer of the share and hope of creativity’s gifts.
Serendipity came and gave. Thank you.