Alabama Absolution

2012-01-29T11:22:00.000-08:00

And these new roads are solitary
the company that I seek is not
a someone
rather
me
alone
with nothing but
my thoughts
and the
sun
and the
stars
my journey
belongs
to no one
who I am
becoming
is between
me and the
moon
the north wind
and
the night song

Alabama Absolution: unquenchable

2011-10-19T17:18:00.000-07:00

Alabama Absolution: unquenchable

Process

2011-10-19T17:13:00.000-07:00

I wanna whisper somethin

sweet in your ear

Something that starts

a different kind of beat
       that stirs your blood
I want to feel divine expectation
suspended in liquid heat.
I want to taste the salt
       that slips down your back
and trickles from
the
   tips
      of
my fingers
only to find its' way
to waiting lips.
I wanna hear the sound

that orginates

when cool jazz

meets southern fire.

In other words

I wanna be bathed

the

steam

we create.

unquenchable

2011-10-16T20:55:00.000-07:00

there is a slow turning

the

inside out

revealing more than

the naked

eye

could

ever

see

and just like a sloe gin fizz

on a hot Summer's Day

I find

my unquenchable thirst

momentarily

appeased

Southern Legacy

2011-10-10T11:16:00.001-07:00

I remember momma

When the days are gray

and cold

when the late December skies

spit their South Alabama mixture

of ice and snow

kinda like grits

and I’m not sure what it is

about

these days

that brings this melancholy

except the fact, that despite

the cold and the hardship,

the love and the memories of

soothing hands, always manages

to keep me warm.

and she knew this , that although

her children are facing their own

Winters, a mother’s love

always wraps her babies in a warm

Quilt for wintertime.

this is a mother’s legacy

warm memories for Alabama

days when the skies spit their mixture of

Ice and snow

Kinda like grits.

Song of Self

2011-09-09T23:22:00.001-07:00

My voice may not always say things

the right way

when I speak

it may

be grammatically incorrect

but inspiration is a state

of being

and

Grace a state of mind

and insight a random broken verse

in a universe

where perfection is sought

and circles chase themselves

only to reach the same conclusions

so please understand that my thoughts

my state

of being

is a work in progress

and even though I see

sometimes with my eyes

closed

and my mind

opened

than some with their perfect

rhyme

I am not afraid to say

you are blind

and your senses not sharpened

and your ennui, passe

overlook, if you will

my lack of meter

because

I have learned to stand on

my own

two feet

and write with a rhythm

dictated by the beat

of my own soul

and the music

of the wind.

To a Writer

2011-09-09T18:26:00.000-07:00

His words seem to flow from his

crooked little vein

like raindrops with purpose

knowing they

will

find

their way

to the ocean

where all expansive

mysteries

converge

with

the

infinite

this depth of

limitless wonder

seeks

to refine

and define

the

confines

of all

we

know

... and when

this primal element

meets

the

insatiable

wind

seeds of eternity

are

forever scattered

in the cosmic

vibe

that propels

the

universe.

..

Sunday Coffee

2011-07-24T20:53:00.000-07:00

I am coffee
in your favorite cup
The morning ritual
that starts your day
I am that slow brewed
deep roasted
anticipation
that awakens your soul
breathe me in
I open your eyes
to your own possibilities
One taste and you're hooked
one sip and your senses tingle
warm
enticing
exotic
I am so good
that even the bitter
goes
       down
                 ...smooth
when you're tired
I give you strength
when you're weak
I
add
a lil
sugar
when you're cold
a splash of cream
I heat your fingers
and
elevate
your
mood
I have become
....your
    favorite
      addiction

... now don't you want a sip ?

Artists Lament

2011-07-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

Show me a moment's truth
painted in brilliant hues
and I will reflect back to you
a filtered fragment of life

Give me a glance of the muse
as she whispers in your dark
and I will show you
your own light

Hint at untold stories
of roads not taken
.... and...
paths forsaken
and I will
tell you a secret

Sing me a song
that makes sense of
the night
and I will
amplify your music

Color me a story
with the wind
as your palette
and I will give you
three grains of eternity

.... that will forever alter
the sands of time

Midnight

2011-07-07T19:36:00.000-07:00

so tonight feels strange
like spirits of past lives
are restless
and not at all pleased
at me wasting my time
and the heartbeat of the world
... is skipping beats
and the zombied arms of
past lovers are reaching
past me
for what could have been
and in this strange haze
of half awake
half asleep
jumbled gris gris
... black words from
frantic lips
make no real sound
and
fall
like a silent scream
to those
who never
care
to
listen

Waiting in Vain?

2011-06-11T22:22:00.000-07:00

Life... ah life. We think we have a clue, we think we are on a sure and true path only to have Life say uh uh uh, not so fast little girl. The older I get the more I have to laugh at the fact we actually think we EVER figure anything out. I think we gain a little discernment, a little wisdom, which let's face it, has a lot to do with just keeping our mouths shut and seeing what happens. You can't out think, out plan, out maneuver Life. It just happens, and whether it's part of a greater scheme or a jingle jangle bumbling fumbling mess, we all gotta live it, one day at a time - and we gotta trust it. I don't understand why people are asses or why bad things happen, but I do understand that love gets you through, and friends make ya smile, and there truly is ALWAYS another bend in the road.

So many of us live in fear. Fear of living true, fear of what others will think, fear of not being in control, or what we think is control. So many people hide their hearts, their intentions, their wants, that they get lost and are just swept along by Life. Life doesn't want us to do this, to be fearful. Life doesn't want us to manage our hearts, or manage the nuances of time. Life wants to be lived, and lived well - without fear. Hearts mend, bad times pass - the world will always be a little sideways, and who knows what's in store - but Life is waiting... so what are YOU waiting on?

stuff

2011-05-16T15:12:00.000-07:00

A famous Southern Writer once said, "Everything that rises must converge." Funny how certain words hit you at certain times, acting as a guiding light in a starless sky. Everything that rises must converge. All of our hopes, dreams, wants, desires thrown up there like Hiawatha's mother, tossed to the heavens. What happens when collective risings meet? When good intentions meet with other good intentions? Epiphanies? Vortexes? Change?

I am not sure just what Flannery O' Conner really meant by these words, but I know what they meant to me when I read them. There comes a time when all we dream, all we do, all we are combines in an abstract way with all we can be. These notions however vague intertwine with others and acts like a balm, an easy awakening of some forgotten sense. We are after all the sum of our intentions,

Wordless Poetry

2011-04-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

There is a quote by Edward Hopper that says, "If I could say it (in) words there would be no reason to paint.” Words that can’t seem to find sound make known their presence in brush strokes and patterns of light . These colors on canvas, wood, paper bags or buildings paint beautiful soulful wordless poetry. Poetry that once birthed by the artist, becomes part of the viewer’s individual diary. Each person comes away with images that amuse, confuse, bemuse, and at times offers clarity to those of us in need of guidance.The ability to create is a strange and wonderful gift that is given freely to all - but not everyone is brave enough to attempt this deeply personal purging of emotion. Be it joy, pain, love, hate or to those of us who live in a constant state of trying to live every emotion in one sitting- complete and utter chaos- art offers refuge. Solace lies in creation; and in solace - redemption? Whatever the need, the want, the feeling, these words seem to speak to the very heart of the matter. Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own soul into his pictures.And the true meaning of each work lives only for a moment in the mind and heart of it's maker until it becomes a gift to everyone. May the colors that speak through you, give voice to us all.

Alabama Absolution

2011-04-15T01:29:00.000-07:00

I am of the South of the heart of the pines
of the song of the crickets and blackberry wine
of front porch sittin' and daydreams found
of moon songs and moonshine and old small towns
of cowboys and roughnecks and ladies and cads
of hard work, hard play and barefootin lads
of rivers and creeks and red rover play
of iced- tea- sippin at the end of the day
of magnolias and jasmine and dew on the vine
of bibles and churches and dress-Sunday fine
of kissin and cuddles on Saturday nites
of old kitchen twine and paperbag kites
of fishin' and huntin' and tomatos, green-fried
of football, tailgates and SEC pride
of grandmas and pawpaws and uncles and aunts
of cousins and kin and in-laws by chance
of covered dinners on blanketed grounds
of summer rain and blue-ticked hounds
of Georgia boys and Bama girls
and this and thats
and give it of whirl
of chances taken and chances lost
of heritage and legacy, never countin' the cost
of rope swings, railroads and writers and such
of long lazy days and ain't doin' much
of Mayberried musings and hand-me down songs
of stories and music and warm evenings- long.
of whipoorwills and mourning doves and Robin's breasted red
of love-stiched quilts and buttermilk and big ole feather beds
of me and you and maybe us and clover honey'd bees
of seven sisters and ancient oaks and canopies of leaves
I am of the South of the Heart of the Pines
of a life well lived and a truth that's mine

Twilights and Morning Mists

2011-04-12T13:14:00.000-07:00

Heres to freshly ground coffee beans in my favorite blue mug, and the way the winds says good morning. Here's to Ella and Etta crooning and scatting over the liquid grey-green of the Alabama delta as we flow thru the morning mist to begin our day. Here's to deadlines and interviews and artists who share. Here's to lunch with my best gal pal who will be moving across the world with her real true forever love. It takes awhile to find that sometimes you know. Here's to MM's blue berried VI and the Ogre's beautiful translucent soul and Shannon's twinkle and my young Valie asking and seeking both question and answers in the same breath. Here's to Lima beans with ketchup and new friends, and the ones and zeros that cause us to connect with each other and propel each to new awareness. Here's to the promise of Summer, and the air as soft as butterfly kisses- the sweetest of all kisses, except maybe the nape of the neck :-)Here's to a good vintage,RED and music below my feet and bubble baths full of rose petals and dreams full of inspiration. And here's to the hope of one day finding my hearts desire and recognizing it when I do.

Unsung

2011-04-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

I am unsung

notes to a tune

not yet written.

I am fear
wrapped in bravado
I am ease
but not acquiesced
I am forgiveness.... personification of things
taboo in nature
I am willful
to my detriment
I am solid yet of air
I am love
given to all
afraid to take
and being taken
I am beginning
Without my ending
Dancing in step
Without my partner
I am magic
Without a spell
I am alone.... because I need to be
accepted
I am me
But more than
the
sum of my parts.

Pizzicato

2011-03-28T19:14:00.000-07:00

In the coldness of this winter

I turn inside myself

and ponder the mysteries of this life

and as I sit wrapped

in the warmth

of lessons learned and meant to bes

my mind turns to hands
the color of ambered honey
and a voice
that dispels
all thought
of sleet or snow
every movement felt
the neck long
the fingers deft
the strings taut
the vibrations of inspired intention
are liquid fire
that
heats
my
core

Alabama Jazz (1)

2011-03-28T19:00:00.000-07:00

so I dream we are sitting face to face
in some old diner
and for some reason
Ellington is at the counter
playing the piano
and Jimmy B
. he's there too
and we
you and me
are speaking in tune with their beat
.......and the heat
well it ain't from the kitchen...
but that's what happens
when you snuggle down
with Jazz on the brain
on a Winter's night
in Alabama
broken time speaks with a drawl
like your eyes speak to mine
in double time
on a winter's night in Alabama

Said the Siren (2)

2011-03-26T14:51:00.000-07:00

Come outside and play with me

where the apples blossoms dance

the breeze holds promise

.... anything is possible

to a dreamers soul

Come outside and play with me

in these green foothills

where the grass harp
tell stories of new lovers
and vagabonds, others
like you
who write their music
across the night sky.
Come outside and play with me
can you hear me whisper
I am calling you across the way
Come outside, meet me here
Come outside and play :)

October Blue Revised

2011-03-24T13:42:00.000-07:00

What I know for real and true...

These days clarity in most instances is a fleeting wanna be that tickles my nose and touches my hand... teasing me like the answers that float on the breeze. Everything's there you know, in the wind, every answer to every question, every tear ever shed, all the joyous laughter that greens the ages, in the air, all the time. I think Faith is a receptor... our spirits already know the ends and out of navigating the world. We just have to be open to receiving them. Open to the little sounds that the soft breezes whispher.

October blue offers a purity that is want at other times of the year. I find myself asking the really hard questions this month. The soul searching ones. The questions that lead us to choose a path at the proverbial fork in the road. Maybe it's the Harvest of more than Earths bounty, maybe it's the harvesting of our experiences. Maybe by sweet grace, every season that passes leads those of us who try to listen, a little closer to living our truest, most productive lives.

What I know for real and for true, is that answers do come. Paths and pitfalls are navigated sometimes waltzing-ly, other times bumbling and tumbling. The elegance of our journey determined by our abilities to listen to the breeze that whisphers the steps.

'Wisdom sails with wind and time' - John Florio"

comfortably numb?

2011-03-23T12:07:00.000-07:00

How many times do we ask ourselves as we sit behind our desks or trudge through the sludge of everyday…'What the hell am I doing and what am I doing it for?' And of course most of us do what we do for a noble reason, simply to provide for those we love. But what about our spiritual well being? What about those little nagging mid-life questions? Is what I'm doing making a difference? Is the time clock going to dictate the rhythm of my soul? If this life is truly all we get- am I making the most of mine? Is there a better way to provide for my family and be energized and fulfilled at the end of the day? These are questions that need to be addressed. Because the old adage is true—Time waits for no man.

Revisit old dreams and interests. Blow the cobwebs from those wee corners of the mind where wild abandon and childhood joy are hanging on by tiny lil threads 'cuz they know that YOU—the fearless one- will return one day to make all things aright… that YOU will realize that dreams and the pursuit of dreams is a vital function to 'LIVING TRUE'

So whatever you feel is impossible or improbable –GO FOR IT!!! People marry their lives and their dreams everyday. They simply have the gumption and fortitude and are tired of living in the limbo of comfortably numb. You're better than that—there is more out there. Seek and you shall find little one

Ask and it will be given—DON'T BE A CHICKEN SHIT!!! Cuz anything else is just giving up and giving in"

Sunday Sing-Song

2011-03-22T17:30:00.000-07:00

What if I strip it down to the bare bone
rare
bloodied
Inside out
so that you know
you are not alone not alone
what if I give you a free peek
at my freak show
solitary
removed
but never without
people get ready people get ready
what if a better day's acomin
testify
clarity
believe the liar
let it be let it be
what if shadows hold answers
dismal
gray
obscuring bright sky
here comes the sun here comes the sun
what if night time is the right time
to
be
ya'll sing with me
with the one you love one you love
what if I am for real
your
savior
your own personal Jesus personal Jesus
what if California is empty after all
cold
question
we really cant
fight the moonlight fight the moonlight
what if this is our song
erractic
beating
fascinating rhythmn fascinating rhythmn
what if this is for real
well
then
I like like this tune
mercy mercy me mercy mercy me

Random Thoughts. ♥

2011-03-22T11:48:00.000-07:00

In betweens
The in betweens are turning out to be the sweetest.
You know the in betweens. In between growing up and growing old -
finding yourself and being found - trying to figure it all out and accepting the realities of what is. My life is in a constant state of not quite good enough.
Better job, more money. Better home, bigger yard, another guy another and set
of issues( for me anyway). Not to mention the whole if I could just loose these many pounds...yeah baby ...life would be sweet.... ha ha hah... I laugh in the face of someday. Some of this is good. Keeps us moving keeps us striving and reaching for more. We never want to become complacent. But what if something more never turns out to be what we think it should?

YA KNOW WHAT?? It never gets figured out. Not really.Rarely are we satisfied with our lives, our bodies, our relationships, our jobs, our... you name it. We learn to adapt and live full lives in the in between moments of muddled clarity. In between this moment and someday is our life. And if we don't start living in the here and nows and savoring the in betweens, all we get is a successions of somedays.

Stripped down tho the bone of just being, a great cup of Sunday morning coffee, deadlines, blue sky.. yep... these in between days... not so bad."

For Real & True

2011-03-21T13:29:00.000-07:00

The older I get the more I realize the less I know. Cliche, right? It's true. We find our answers only to reach a new perspective that breeds more questions, or more times than not, we realize, our seemingly dire question, doesn't mean jack SQUAT. So, in celebration of my latest my epiphany that all is INDEED vanity and striving after the wind, here our my new truths.

1. I can't make anyone like/love/want me. I have to do/be/become these things for ME.
2. No matter WHAT, I choose how I react to this world, be it good or bad, I can manifest results through my intent- my life.
3. As adults, we are not victims of our lives. We simply make the decision to stand on the sidelines or die with our boots on.
4. God, Grace, Divinity.... is in control... he/she WANTS us to rely on ourselves, with the knowledge that all is as it should be, and if it isnt't we are being taught a lesson that will serve us in the future, so that we, in turn, may serve others.
5. Love IS all that matters.

In the Air

2011-03-21T12:57:00.001-07:00

You say there are dreams in the air tonight
The night winds full of promise and redemption
Whirling and twirlings of mismatched hopes
Dance on the edge of beginnings
You feed my soul and fill me up
Maybe these good things will push past the fear

You say there are dreams in the air tonight
And I believe as I spin and I leap
Still unfocused in my clarity I
Watch my feet… waiting for touch down
But I have been given wings to soar
Despite grounding or proverbial thud

You say there are dreams in the air tonight
and in the prism of my be-ing
the violet notes and indigos of ancient songs
are refracted in a million shades of blue
that bathes the soul and acts as balm…
to a wearied one in search of solace

you say there are dreams in the air tonight
and in the half mooned perfume of easy summer
I settle myself into the your tune and hear
You sing without making a sound
… the beating of two becomes the rhythm of one
My reality merges with the infinite
And I believe ….

You say there are dream in the air tonight."

Burnt orange and the Northern Wind

2011-03-20T13:30:00.000-07:00

"Kindred Spirits aren't as hard to find as they use to be. People who have a true sense of self, who walk their own path, no matter how lonely. Those who delight at the feel of the grass between their toes and the leaves in the wind are my kind of people, my TRIBE.
I hold to a personal belief that we have all passed this way before in some form or fashion. That we who connect have connected always and will continue to do so. It's odd when we receive encouragement and love from a seeming stranger, but not really. Our tribe holds us up, pushes us forward and makes us brave. But sometimes being truly sublime, unique individuals, it's hard to find true sisters and brothers outside our own front door. So we improvise and we put ourselves out there and we seek and are sought and we come together, if even for a little while to harness the energy of our powerful spirit and hopefully be more productive and less afraid.We walk the path of true kinship and are better for it. So to all my kindreds...thank you."

The Story of Us

2011-03-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

It is said that eveyone has a story. Of course this is true. What are we if not on going works of semi- fiction trying to find our path, our people, our other? Everyday we write the words, the sentences, the paragraphs, and chapters that comprise our story. True there are those who are more together, more receptive to Grace, more in tuned to the world outside their own experiences than others. I guess we all have moments of enlightment though :-) even the most clueless of the bunch- those of us who turn in circles and create art from patchworks and moonglow, have our splendid a-ha moments. So we add to the word count that constitutes a story, and share it with those who care to read, hoping that our words resonates somewhere deep inside the walls of others experience. There are those who write in meter, and those who like simple rhyme, and yet others who seems to effortlessly knock out epics every week of their lives. But sometimes, too many words and superfulous adjectives create gridlock on our pages. Maybe, just maybe we need to take a moment and let the silence speak for us. Maybe, just maybe, we need to trust that sometimes, LIFE writes our story, and not the other way around. Those of us who trust in the North Wind, don't always understand the verbage or structure of the Higher Power that edits our content, but we trust in the end, Happy Endings will come, and our stories will serve as some sort of quasi- academia for those who care to settle in for a good read on a Winter's evening."

Free form bonding

2011-03-17T10:09:00.000-07:00

So I have decided instead of writing
another poem
about the lack of
my missing parts
my searches
my take stock of
all
that
is
wrong
I would let this flow
TESTIFY
to
all
that is so
RIGHT
We women soar together in a flock of silken wings
and moonsongs
Searching soothing swaying moving to the rhythm
of the music of our sisterhood
offering words to
if
not
heal
a troubled spirit ...then at least to
patch it ....mend it
sharing our coveted threads freely
with
those
like the Emperor
that haven't
a
clue
they have NOTHING on
Yeh
we women
we sisters of the tribe
are
real
good like that
We shes are strong
we are blessed
with Grace
along beside the waters
of discontent
we fill our cups
and
drink
to
LIFE"

sleeps with butterflies?

2011-03-16T14:05:00.000-07:00

found this girlie...not trying to bum you out..but it's beautiful and all about the butterflies. Butterflies that transcend the petty,embrace the divine and float on grace. We need these to help clarify and purify.

What happens to our souls and our passions? What happens to butterfly kisses and anticipation of the yet to be's? Where did the people go that could inspire and be inspired?
Where are we? Sleeping with butterflies? Wake up and dream. My soul is awake and my spirit in need of fire.

Rebecca Horne's Facebook Notes

2011-03-15T13:27:00.000-07:00

Rebecca Horne's Facebook Notes

musings

2011-03-15T13:24:00.000-07:00

"What is your passion? What defines the confines in which your higher self is housed? You remember that person? Right? That person who still believes in love, the one who is fearless? Yes she's there, take her out and buy her an ice cream cone, with sprinkles. Nourish yourself with everything you hold sacred. Moon bathe, the full moon is in a few days ya know? A great bottle of wine, some deep sultry music and your very best pal...you. Take out your daydreams or better yet your nite ones, breathe deeply and let them play among the stars. Know that anything and everything is possible. No matter what part your life is playing in the great theatrical production of living.
Our souls magic and the wisdom of the ages is in every breath. When is the last time you allowed yourself to breathe that deeply?"

2009-07-04T20:37:00.000-07:00

I forget the power of words sometimes me - the writer - AP style story -story-pyramidstyle!!I forget the need to connect and reconnectEmpower and reflect - avoid and be devoidmyself- inside-down deepof words, the words,from wordsbecause of- in spite of - fear of respite from~words~half truths - half lies- deny thy spiritdeny thy pride- words-speak me, seek me, f@$k me- freak me~words~Poetry, drama, love/hate, karma~words~In the beginning there was-in the end there shall beYou- me the power of three~words~I am the word- You are the wordSPEAK your piece- speak your peace.Your words are power. Your words our power.

Learning to Be

2009-07-01T17:04:00.000-07:00

I have never felt liked I belonged anywhere. When I was younger, I thought this Gypsy mentality was cool. A Will of the Wisp kinda butterfly of a gal. This restlessness has led me down many paths and to many realtionships but never has it brought me home to me.How do we find our way to ourselves, to authenticity? When you're young this is a wonderful journey, although at the time it mightn't seem that way. But as you get older you should start making a home, a little nest. I don't know how to do this.Don't get me wrong, my home is lovely.My son is starting high school.I actually make money writing. I have a great boyfriend but I'm not home and I don't know where to look anymore-- unless maybe, it's inward.I guess this is the key.
Sometimes I think home is a person.At other times I think home lies in our own hearts in our ability to love ourselves and nurture ourselves.I keep thinking one day I'll find a little dot on the map and know without a doubt, this is where I belong.I don't know.I just know that for the next four high school years, I'm right here. What's the old adage?"No matter where you go , there you are." It always makes me laugh because here I am,at then end of the one road and the start of a new journey. The begininng of me,being still and becoming and hopefully finding my way home.Whatever that means.

Rising

2009-07-01T16:06:00.000-07:00

Rising

I am rising.
Shaking off the fear of my Summer]
and the subtle change in my light
.I am rising like the proverbial phoenix
or any women who pays the rent
I am untying the knots of self]
squared and tight these ropes that bind
and opening my eyes to clarity
and the rich lushness of my life
I am extending my arms to embrace the day
and shaking hands with illusions
these only cloud the mind
I am slipping on my four inch heels
like the wanton woman I am
or any woman who pays the rent
and dancing, with cat like moves
feeling the slow rhythm of my life song
I am tasting my own words
and they are good ,like wild honey
I am rising, like any woman and I am free.

Long days ramblings into night

2009-01-10T08:57:00.000-08:00

Because this life will be as it will- until it ceases to be what we pretend it's not- our souls confusion will paint the illusion of clarity on aging bodies and youthful hearts- until we can see that love makes us blind -- family makes us crazy--and friends make us strong-- these are the songs of ancients-- that have child -like vision in the hindsight of our future. May we all see as babes in muted shades of wisdom. Amen.

2009-01-10T08:35:00.001-08:00

What if cats were purple and grapes were the color of raw meat? What if we drove to work in a handbag and danced on the tips of our fingers? What if songs were our bodys way of making love? What if everyone everywhere were free? What if ice cream wasn't fattening and Absolute was at the top of the food pyramid? What if trees nutured our souls and held us close when we wept? What if acceptance was in every breath of our being? And what if love was cheap and poverty was the designer look of the season? What if self loathing and fear were rubberbands and we could shoot them from the clasp of our Coach bags as we sped down a highway made of sunshine and good memories? What if family was another word for neighbor and a butterfly whisphered, "Wake up, the world is waiting for your brillance," in our ear every morning instead of blaring alarm clocks echoing the unfulfilled voids that is as regular as our cup of Columbian? What if Taxi Cabs took us to the moon and dreams led us to Nirvana? Then would you smile?