A caravan
cross country
a tribe, a nomadic movement of
mixed diversity.
Hearing steel drums calling, calling, calling…
The king leads his warriors in lengthy procession.
And the music rises
and Falls
in the wind.
The feast.
Lounging, sun bursting down,
warming flesh,
calming hearts.
His majesty sparks a heartfelt smile,
cheshire cat grin.
All knowing eyes.
Radar, bringing all energy together.
Collective, uprising,
family, friends, extended friends, new relatives, extended conversation, lovers, family…
What moves you, your highness?
What gives you that zest?
Passion for life?
Love for passion–
cold beer on hot day make body melt like moments on dark night candle light and…
caught glimpse of de eye
and ting…
Not making style.
Just an extended observation from one who knows. And shows.
An admirer, from one who knows.
Takes a king to notice the intricacies, the strength of a fellow king.

Like a burning memory, migraine headache, unconditional love…
Why why, I’ll never know.
So I’ll just dream for the meantime.