A toast.

I tip my glass and spill my thoughts,
my foolish, errant, erratic yet thoughtful, well-dressed
but bewildering in their silly-dancing-winding way...
thoughts.


Resting at the mouth of Cliff Giant,
where he bends to know the lips of Sea Witch,
where Lady Luna in a full and grand spread above, watches...
She takes notes, pen-drops atop moon-clouds,
she forms the letters with sweet ease,
she takes... Secrets.


Sutra she'll share later with Ra,
a gospel of Love,
their Love,
reflected infinitely and permeating every beating, breathing, blood-channeling
being, Animal and Man alike.


She is the Why, same as You, for my spilled Self.