Time is an illusion used to measure the moments between events. Our bodies and minds tied to the cycle of tide, moon, and sun. Travelers in synch with daily interactions with others, stretching out or shortening the hours between rise and rest. Count your blessings, not the minutes. And smile.

Those who stood the test of faith, in dutiful service to protect their fellow citizens.... there are not thanks enough for all you did, paying a heavy price to stand the line. Be proud of what you gave of time, sweat, and when asked of you.... your blood. A nation salutes you. A nation is grateful.

We fought the British King, and those pulling his strings behind the throne. We fought ourselves 100 years laterto satisfy the merchants making bank behind the White House. We fought a needless war in the sixties putting money in military suppliers pockets. We're in one now, doing the same again.

Suggestion: what if every democrat re-registers as a republican? Would that negate the effect of being denied to vote due to your current voter registration being denied, or deleted from voter roles? Asking for a friend....

I sift the creative flow of creatives I know, and those to meet. Urging words formed from images framed, capturing places imagined or real. To feel the emotions of those who share where their feet or brushes choose to go. Seeds of wonder for all to see in an exchange of energies beneath a BlueSky.

I write within the flow of what is shown me while reading or looking at creative people's posts. What comes through is as much from you, as me or more. My novels arrive the same way. What I see and hear in my unbound mind, to paper sent. Or BlueSky friends, met then or now.... like you. Reach out.

When civilization's thin blanket of civility, honorable actions, societal mores and equal treatment of all is scratched, exposed is mankind's inherent weaknesses. Fear of the unknown, loss of security, change to one's narror viewpoint of strangers. Basic instincts arise leading to prejudice.

To my BlueSky friends and their families as well as all Canadians.... my deepest and heartfelt condolences for the horrible news today. This tragedy is a sad reflection of a world spun out of balance. It does not reflect Canadian's true nature, which is inclusive and never abusive. Prayers to all.

Final post in series: It is not enough to stand and stare. To hesitate to run into the fractious sea. To regain an innocence as children felt, wild and careless with our lives. But it is wise, in times of strife, to look to one another, sisters and brothers, hands in hands, before wading in.

Post part five: I have no better sight than others. Limited as all are by a singular view of what seems proper, and what rings true. Opinions formed from the clay I'm made of, pulled from familial ground. But I realize I like others are bound to the same eternal sea, a place we once called home.

Post part four: We seek balance in a field of fractured ground. Leaning on one another to make a crossing, trusting those we name family and friends to support, help carry our burdens, as we do in return. There is a book that guides these efforts. Based on truths learned along the way.

Post part three: Collectively, we the people decide whom to follow or to ignore. Our footsteps locked to one path or another. Each with unique hazards or rewards. Neither one leading straight and narrow, as the world is full of twists and turns. The churn of greed over sharing, or hate over caring.

Post part two: History is similar, measured in generational ebb and flow as each new arrival claims the stage in time. Exacting their imprint on events conjured up to provide grist for their mill. To stake a place in public view of who the are, what they stand for, and are willing to do.

Post 1: Waves along ocean shorelines come in groups of seven. Perhaps related to the expression of ships sailing the seven seas. Each with a part to play in affecting the curling grasp of salt-brine water combing foamy fingers through grains of ancient sand.

It's not as difficult to prevent damage done as it is to avoid it having happened. No sane person or people would hand the keys of a big rig to a person blinded by ego, lack of empathy, or morales. Right? Surely our ancestors would have protected us against such a thing. Right? Right??? Right?????

I'm the watcher on the wall. My task to search horizon's edge for sign of danger from without. To sound the alarm, and ring the bell While looking out. I must be stout and disciplined, and brave. But when the threat lies deep within these walls, I know I and my people have been betrayed....

To create in any medium producing an emotional responsein in one's own self, your heart touched, tears to eyes drawn, or subdued sigh of what was loved and lost along the way is left hovering in the air. there is where reality resides. The cupped wave, poignant smile, rhythmic prose exposing truth.

Authors, by definition, chronicle their life experiences wrapped within the ebb and flow of thoughts turned into words. Absurd to think a machine formed around real people's efforts in outputting their feelings with emotional resonance, can duplicate the missing sauce that makes up a gourmet meal.

AI writing is like viewing nature in a typical zoo. To those with no frame of reference, like a trip into the wilderness, exposed to the sounds, scenes, scents, and sense of being on the other side of the fence, nothing equals reality. Blood responds to blood. Mind, to mind. Soul to soul.

Post three: I realize people feel a need to rise to act against tyrannical practices, and acknowledge the value in speaking out in opposition to cruelty. With opposite efforts made. To be calm in manner. United in community. Condem weak souls by standing firm in the face of their acting out.

Second post: It is imperative we move ahead with justice sought for all. Accountability for those standing outside the law. To take what is witnessed into courts of Law. To trust the founding Fathers (and Mothers) to right the Ship of State before it founders on a harsh and unforgiving shore....

There are moments that shake the foundation stones of societal integrity on which a house is built, stone by stone. Brick by brick. Board by board. It does not live until filled with the lifeblood of family, friends, and outcasts taken in. We are shaken by recent events. Stirred to righteous action.

We are a country cast from clay fired in the heat of rebellion against a tyrannical ruler from beyond the ocean.... and today face much the same, closer to home. Our forefathers, no doubt assisted by wives with strong opinions, wrote a document to protect democracy. Our time to be tested, now.

I, is but a single star in the sky. We, are a canvas overhead painted in a blaze of lights beyond count. Humanity does not exist in one, but all. The totality of our Selves, our beliefs, thoughts, and actions taken on behalf of individual rights in a collective call to action. Be human. Be humane.

We are, beneath the surface, connected in ways beyond measure of science or superstition. Bias, or a fear of someone outwardly different than what we see in the mirror is emotional blindness, based on prejudice, ignorance, and an inability to believe in the miracle of one's own humanity....

Quick question: How many people does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Answer: One Next Question: How many people does it take to screw up the world? Hmmmm.... same answer. Let's see.... Gengis, Hitler, Ivan, Mussolini, Stalin. Looks like we're up to the letter T.

If you are struggling to come to terms with what's going on in US politics of late, be reassuted that your morality, empathy, and integrity is firmly in place. Buckle up, log in, and put your shoulder to the wheel. It's gonna take us all to put things back as close to right once more.

A generational sacrifice made to an industrial sponsored, geo-political desire to profit off military advancements. New technology. New ways to maim and kill. Same thrill in counting monies rolling in. From club, to spear, to arrow released on through to missiles, drones, and more. War equals money.

This day, a few more chapters of a new story told from days of old, postponed in lieu of writing missives such as this. A pull to reach those who choose to stroll the hallways of this media-formed universe. An exchange of energy binding all to each and everyone, bringing the light we seek today....

Be more to others than a name. A title on a novels cover. Reveal, within, an honest view of what you thought then learned anew with hard won knowledge gained throughout a well-framed life. Expose the strife salted with tears, the sweet taste of joy found in love's sweet kiss. This is who you are.

No AI can replicate spontaneous bursts of original creativity. Only reflections of those who led the way unto today. Pain, love, angst and such, the spices needed in the brew of what from fiction is made true to a reader's mind. As no kiss from a lifeless mask can ever warm one's soul....

I caress the keys of a worn keyboard to see what might arise upon the screen. A word in follow to the one before, until a score line up in horizontal line. A quiver in my writer's soul as images and voices swell into life, bequeathing scenes of places unexplored, begging more be told. So I do.

We have, today, earned on the back of others willing to carry the load, opportunity to do the same. To pass to the future a country formed on basic principles of justice, freedom, and right to speak freely to power. Fundamental to who we are as a country. A haven for those seeking sanctuary. To all.

As if wrapped in a blanket of hand-spun wool, warm within its clinging embrace, energy flows to and fro 'tween like-minded souls sharing the same image of what the world could and should be. To join those eager to bask beneath a blue sky is manna to one's soul. Beyond measure, a treasure, indeed...

Someone, they often say, should do something. Somebody must stand up and say no further, no more, no longer. Resist. Refuse. Reset the morale bar. And in the echoes of the past come voices saying: We did. We marched. We forced change to the status quo. Your turn to bear the cross and thorny crown.

We hold the slate wiped clean of yesterday's turmoil, tears, and troubles. Opportunity to start anew with you to write the story told, one page at a time. As it was in yesterday's shadow, and will be on tomorrow's break of day. And for this day. Share what is true to you. Feel it. Live it. Give it.

It's only a number. A turning of the page, night to day. They say it's an opportunity to change the tenor, tone, and tune of our collective path through seasons to come. But Nature measures not by days or weeks or months. She moves from moment to moment in a flow of energy released. Be like her.

#2wordprompt #dusty #rebel #poetry The Dusty Cape The cape was dusty, disintegrating politely in the corner along with time that pretends it isn’t complicit. Being good had turned into a risk assessment, a brightly colored warning label crafted by people who never planned to bleed…