Color tones

The sunset’s golden age of painting
Claimed its attention
And offered the heart mixing its own
Preferred colors into the atmosphere
The heart grip decisively a golden brush
And painted peace and joy
In to the heavenly shades

Sun smiled and whispered softly:
¨This painting will become very beautiful,
Although it never gets finished.¨

Organic power in moles and major

You thought life only was difficult
And endlessly tiring
Until your daze
Began to change character
Activity became required
And you felt challenge
Your reality was palpable
And there was no other light
Than the light from your consciousness
There was no rest more
Your daze had entered
The past’s dimmed music rooms
Where there was composed
Nostalgia in moles

Then you met the wall
And felt how hopeless it was
You longed to doze again
But the star of your chest had been born
With longing after becoming sun
Then there was a sudden light
And the wind fondled you gently
The wall had collapsed and had given up
Your pressure had been constant
World appeared
And the darkness reign ended
Your breakthrough was marked
Of shimmering sunlight singing birds
footstep voices and traffic noise
From now on everything seemed
so glorious light

Metaphoric droplets

Ingrid and Jens walked and chatted along the fjord beach edge. They were both eleven years and had summer vacation, so there was no unread homework as disturbed the summer idyll. Some shorebirds darting nodding back and forth, and the seagulls were almost constantly engaged in their daily lives. They flew around screaming hoarse, disharmonious stanzas and dived regularly in the fjord after various delights, which they called: “Everything good from the fjord.”

There were numerous seashells in the sand and many stones, of which a good part was conspicuously beautiful. Regular flooding of the fjord water and the automatically supplied polishing of beach sand and seaweed, made eventually stones look fairy-tale like. And when the sunlight glittered in them, it was difficult just to let them be for show when you were a boy and eleven years.

Jens bent regularly and grabbed a stone, which he deftly threw obliquely into the water, so it could slip. He had done it so many times that seven slipped in one throw was not unusual. And it was a pleasure for him to do it in Ingrid’s company, because he felt she admired his ability to get many slip aligned in one throw.

Ingrid saw a stone with a particularly beautiful hue. She picked it up and handed it to him. He shook his head, regarded it with a connoisseur’s eye and said it was too heavy to slip. He did, however, accept it and threw it into the fjord, as far as he could. The water rose in a small pillar where the stone fell. There was a “sjup,” and the gulls made quickly and effortlessly some evasive maneuvers, even though they were completely outside the danger zone.

The stone struck in the water, and by the resulting water column, got a lot of drops suddenly life. In the fjord, they never was accustomed to regard themselves as individual beings, but now this experience was forced upon them with shocking suddenness.

On the way up was a small drop of close encounter with another small drop.

“Hello beautiful, how are you?” Exclaimed it spontaneously.

“Yes, well, it goes forward … or rather upward, but sooner or later it might go downward, I guess. Who knows?”

“You sound quite philosophical. We two are surely twin souls, because as it seems from my perspective, we look like each other like two drops of water.”

“It may be something about it. You are not at just the deep water with this view, because I can philosophize, so the waves going high.”

“There is also much to ponder. Where did we come from and where are we going? I mean, how will it all end? There must be a purpose with life. We can’t just been created randomly.”

“Yes of course there is a meaning to our lives. I do not think it’s a coincidence that we two meet here and now. Hey, by the way, notice how quiet it suddenly becomes. It’s quite wonderful. I hope it will last forever.”

“It’s the calm before the storm, I think, because I can feel on my water that we soon are on our way down, but it’s probably natural?”

“Yes, it goes up and down in life. Oops, and now it is strongly downward. Holy stickleback where it tickles wonderful in the stomach.”

Two seconds later was sprayed almost over, and the drops again united with their creator. At the same time disappeared all need to assume anything, it all told themselves now.

For an outsider it may seem surprising that two drops bother to speculate about whom or what they basically are and where they came from, but for them it was a whole life lived through, and they had not seen it as a special short time … and certainly not as wasted time.

Think for example of a mayfly that lives in approximately twenty-four hours, where it can reach to grow, proliferate, get old and die.

Twenty-four hours would certainly have occurred the drops like an eternity if they had been able to relate to it. But it was not in their cards.

“Look, Ingrid nine slips.” Jens prided himself on his last throw. “But it was also a perfect slip stone, I just found. Hey look, there’s a bird’s nest with chicks. Maybe it is sandpipers. They are aligned the environment and look like sand and stones. Be careful not to step on them. We should leave now, so the parents do not become scared and let their chicks alone and lost. It takes time before they can fend for themselves.”

Pristine spring

Soon is the sky cloudless

shining softly light blue

as a computer monitor.

Just completely clean

free of symbols

no desk

and no condensation trails

from airplanes. 

In the upper left corner

a flashing vertical line.

Start writing

or allow the screen being

untouched by will.

All stories

all poems

all pictures

and all the music

is there anyway in advance.

Read, write or play the sky

with open heart

and mind.

Or just let it be

untouched.

Forever and ever

The place where eternity finally ends, is relatively far out. Few have been there because it is so well hidden. It is listed in category A, and the only building is a typical fairytale castle. Everyone knows how such a one looks like, and many would like to visit it, but it’s not just something as can be done automatically.

Behind the castle is a great mountain. It consists apparently only of rocks, and it is said to have a special mission:

Once every thousand years, comes the legendary bird Rok to sharpen its beak. When the mountain is worn down by this treatment, is one second of eternity gone. For most it is some quite unfamiliar time horizons, to deal with. And it’s probably also just a legend.

What is a legend?

It is called, for example, an edifying tale … from the old days, to get a sort of realistic distance to it. You may not like to involve the present in mystery, but if you can’t see that the present is just as mysterious as the past, will you just continue to create history, and will then still be on the treadmill, which does not stop until you hops off. It is all too evident that you have to keep it going, for the next steps that immediately pops up, makes it difficult to realize that it can stop.

Some understand this, but do not dare to hop off, others can’t see the point of stopping. A few jumps however, either because they are brave enough, because they can see the idea of it, or because they are sufficiently tired of the treadmill. They wake up in the fairytale castle where eternity finally ends.

For this is a ticket to the castle of timelessness, where you will meet the Queen, who holds court here. She reveals the origins of the various narratives and legends, and shows you the mountain’s deep secret:

“In the heart of the mountain banks a large and warm heart. From the outside, the mountain seems cold and hard, but the heart, there banks inside it, heats the entire universe.”

And while you rub your eyes after the dawn of time finally is present, it is easy enough to understand.

The legendaric bird Rok keeping an eye, with tilted head and with whimsical twinkle in the eyes, while the Queen inaugurates you in all the legends, worn by every ray of the morning sun here on site.

But from the treadmill, everything is as it always was, and the sun from time immemorial is not even on the horizon yet.

Destination

If the candle wicks are lit at both ends,
it is faster burnt down,
but it also allows twice as much light.
A very special coin which can’t be exchanged,
is characterized by special kinds of light on one side
and dark in several shades on the other.
It will be left unturned endlessly until it shines
so the stars peep out.

In Shangri-La there are neither light nor dark.
But the gods inscrutable smiles witnesses still on
unimaginable promises, without burned candles
with black wicks, and without hand worn coins.
If Shangri-La really disguises itself with itself,
it is neither the tickets or visa required to wake up
in a bed there with an inscrutable smile.

Hunger

The offspring opens mouth to get mother’s breast.
Waves roars vehemently against the hunger’s rugged beach.
The white drops fills, and the pain goes ashore.
It’s like a war, where hunger being tackled using scream and push,
to make the hunger’s pain to dims. And the battle is soon won,
it requires some sucking, which feels quite nice, as the milk fills the belly.
Then both eyes being closed, and the war becomes to peace,
a little belch and gentle mind images emerge.

Forløb.

Skinfakse, smukke hest, så glad, levende og forjættende. Du løber mod vinden, ledsaget af havets opmuntrende brusen. Du har din egen lyse tid, og dine spor i det våde sand er lige så virkelige, som de tankefølelser du nærer, mens du strækker ud med morgenens dug som skum på din mule.

Verden venter tålmodigt, og fotonerne jubler.
Tiden holder siesta, og kun uskyldig tidløshed er.
Men tankefølelserne, som er havets bølger,
giver tiden tilbage, mens de danser efter vindens vilje,
til tiden atter bliver stille ved havets spejl,
når dagen er gået til ro, og Rimfakse galoperer
på den gyldne løber, som månen vil rulle ud.

Den fjerde revle.

Som han sad der, højt oppe i klitten halvt begravet i sand som var pyntet med marehalm hist og her, havde han et vidunderligt udsyn over havet. Ingen træer, ingen lygtepæle og ingen huse stod i vejen.

Han kunne drikke udsigten, direkte som den var. Mere økologisk kunne det næppe blive, og så længe det var uden for turistsæsonen, kunne han have det for sig selv, og stranden blev ikke fyldt med en masse efterladenskaber som ville forstyrre den mentale renhed han  følte både inderst og yderst, øverst og nederst.

Hans blik holdt sig mest til horisonten. Det var der, det sneede, det var der alle eventyrs moder holdt hus og fødte sine mange børn. Ofte kunne man let iagttage overgangen mellem himmel og hav, men lige så ofte var overgangen diffus. Det var svært at foretrække det ene frem for det andet, for alle de variationer der bød sig til var smukke på hver sin måde. Som en gudinde der beder en mand vælge en af sine tusinde døtre til hustru, og hvor han gang på gang må revidere sit valg, fordi skønhed har tusinde ansigter. Ser det ud som konkurrence, er det i hvert fald en godmodig og legende konkurrence, hvor det gælder om at fastholde bejlerens stressede og forvirrede blik længst muligt. Konkurrencen kan ikke bestå i andet, for ingen er smukkest eller skønnest. Illusionen ligger i det faktum, at man altid tror, den man kigger på lige nu, er den smukkeste. Fantasien levner ikke andre muligheder, kun erfaringen får til sidst een til at indse, at de alle er lige smukke på hver sin måde.

En lille hvid prik som pludselig viser sig at være en bølge på afveje, eller en lille hvid prik, som tilsyneladende ikke forandrer sig og som sagtens kan være et skib, øjnes med mellemrum, men uanset hvad den lille hvide prik repræsenterer, er den god at fæstne blikket på. Og det giver havet mulighed for at berette sin historie og synge om den evige visdom, så sjælen får rigtigt fat i det. Havet udtrykker sig altid både i ord og musik, og er i virkeligheden verdens største symfoniorkester.

Han kiggede en stund mod brændingen og forestillede sig smilende, at den skumfødte Venus pludselig dukkede op, vinkede og gjorde tegn til ham om at komme hende i møde. Så rømmede han sig modent, fæstnede blikket i horisonten igen og blev atter universel i sit sind.

Det var blevet aften, og fuldmånen spejlede sig i havet. Tydeligere og tydeligere blev den, og kraftigere og kraftigere føltes dens magnetisme. Afspejlingen i havet blev brudt af bølger og krusninger men holdt sig, i det store hele, stabilt som en amerikansk highway, anlagt efter lineal. Så, uden varsel, løb en grøn, fosforagtig ild hen over havet. Som grønt nordlys der brugte bølgerne som dansegulv, og så æterisk som tankebilleder af flyvende sommerfugle.

En fin lille hånd gled ind i hans på en naturlig og kærlig måde. Det var ikke nødvendigt at tænke over dette. Han rejste sig med en vidunderlig lethed og gled sammen med sin ledsager ud ad månens afspejling i havet og videre i retning mod månen. Mon det er den skumfødte Venus som har rakt mig sin hånd, tænkte han hurtigt men følte så, at det ikke var relevant at fundere nærmere over. Dette var for smukt til tanker, og måtte finde sted i et tidløse nu.

De gled ud af månens gyldne afspejling, så let som morilden han havde iagttaget før, og han bemærkede, at en lille flok delfiner legede omkring dem. Marsvin, tænkte han, endelig ser jeg dem,

og de opfører sig jo, som de delfiner jeg kender fra tv. Så steg de brat opad, højere og højere. Nu gik det så hurtigt, at han var ved at miste bevidstheden, og han nåede lige at ane jordens krumning, før alt forsvandt.

Langt borte fra hørtes stemmer. Der var en pludren som fra et festlokale Han følte sig desorienteret og prøvede at få hold på situationen, men det kom lidt efter lidt helt af sig selv. Han så sig omkring og opdagede, at han var omgivet af vand overalt. Hvordan mon jeg kan trække vejret, tænkte han, men det var der ingen problemer med. Hans ledsager holdt ham stadig i hånden, pegede på en imponerende skikkelse som havde et kæmpestort skæg og en trefork i hænderne. Det er min far, sagde hun, han er konge i vort rige, og du er blevet inviteret, fordi vore hellige delfiner opsnappede din længselsfulde kalden. Da dine følelser ramte den fjerde revle, gjorde du dig fortjent til at deltage i vores fest som altid finder sted ved fuldmåne. Når du vender tilbage, sidder du igen i klitten, og du husker det hele. Men lad være med at fortælle nogen om det, for de er ikke i stand til at tro på dig, og så gør de i stedet nar af dig. Nyd det nu og glæd dig over det, du får lov at opleve her ved denne fest, for det er ubeskriveligt, hvilket også gør det alt for vanskeligt for dig at beskrive på en plausibel måde.

Men gem det i dit hjerte, og du vil sublimere brændstof nok til at nå dit mål som er ved den syvende revle. Herefter vil vi alle være uadskillelige.

The fourth reef

As he sat there, high up in the dune half buried in the sand adorned with lyme grass here and there, he had a wonderful view over the sea. No trees, no lampposts and no houses stood in the way.

He was able to drink the view, exactly as it was. A more organic and spiritual experience would be hard to find. The tourist season was over, and he could have it all to himself. The beach was not filled with piles of litter, interfering with the mental purity he felt both inside, outside, from above and beneath.

He mostly gazed on the horizon: the maternal home of all adventures, a mother giving birth to her many children. You could often observe the transistion between the sky and the sea, but just as often the transistion became diffuse. It was difficult preferring one from the other, as all variations presenting themselves were beautiful in their own way. Much like a goddess asking a man to choose a wife from one of her thousands of daugthers, time after time forcing him to reconsider the final choice, as beauty has a thousand faces. If it resembles a competition, at least it is a good-natured and playful one, trying to maintain the stressed and confused glance of the suitor for as long as possible.

The competition has no other option, because no one is the most beautiful or gorgeous. The illusion lies in the fact, that the one you look at right now, is the most beautiful. The imagination leaves no other possibilities, only experience will finally make you realize that they are all equally beautiful, each in their own way.

A small, white dot suddenly turning out to be a wave on the wrong track, or a small, white dot apparently not changing – and might as well being a ship – is to be seen on and off. Regardless of the meaning represented by this small, white dot, it feels good to look at. And the sea has the opportunity of telling its story, singing about the eternal wisdom, really making the soul comprehend. The sea always expresses itself in both words and music, and is in fact the greatest symphonic orchestra in the world.

He looked towards the surf for a while, smiling imagining the foam-born Venus suddenly appearing, waving and motioning him to come and meet her. Then he cleared his throat in a mature way, gazed on the horizon again and returned to the universal state of mind.

Evening had come and the full moon was reflected in the sea. Clearer and clearer it became, and more and more intensely its magnetism was felt. The reflection in the sea was broken by waves and ripples, but on the whole it maintained a stability compared to an American highway, built with complete exacitude. Then, without warning, a green, phosphor-like fire ran across the sea. As green aurora borealis using the waves as a dance floor, and like etheral mental images of flying butterflies.

A small, fine hand slipped into his in a natural and loving way. It was not necessary giving it another thought. He rose with a wonderful lightness along with his companion heading for the reflections of the moon in the sea and directly towards the moon. I wonder if she is the foam-born Venus reaching for my hand, he swiftly thought, realizing the irrelevance of the question. This experience was way too beautiful to speculate about and had to be met in the timeless now.

They drifted out of the golden reflection from the moon, just as easily as the phosphorescence he observed before, and he noticed a herd of dolphins playing around them. Small Danish dolphins, he thought, finally I get to see them, and they behave exactly like the dolphins I know from the TV.

Then they suddenly ascended upwards, higher and higher. Now everything happening so fast, that he was about to lose his consciousness, and he just managed to catch a glimpse of the earth’s curvature, before it all disappeared.

Voices were heard from far away. A babbling as from a banquet room. He felt disoriented and tried to get a grip on the situation, but it came to him little by little – all by itself. He looked around, finding himself surrounded by water everywhere. I wonder how to breathe, he thought, but it was not an issue. His companion was still holding his hand, and she pointed at an impressive stature with a huge beard, holding a trident in his hands. He is my father, she said, king of our kingdom, and you have been invited, because our holy dolphins captured your genuine and longing feelings. When your emotions hit the fourth reef, you earned the right to participate in our feast, always taking place at full moon.

When you return, you will be back in the dune, remembering everything. But do not tell anyone about it, as they would not be capable of believing you – but instead trying to make a fool out of you. Enjoy the moment and appreciate what you are allowed to experience at this feast. It is indescribable, therefore making it too difficult for you to describe in a plausible way.

But keep it in your heart, and you will accumulate enough fuel to reach your goal, being the seventh reef. Afterwards we will all be inseperable.

Spherical music

Euterpe had pondered for a long time about whether flute playing alone was the ultimate in musical expression. Some of the Muses went to the disco Northern Lights, because there was something which kribbling in them. It kribbled in both hearts, legs and feet, so they agreed to go out and dance.

At the disco Northern Lights was Euterpe deeply touched by a musician’s creativity. He played so beautifully that she rather than dancing sat quietly and listened as her heart was flowing, and she marveled at the unusual breathtaking sounds, this musician produced. His instrument wavy, so it was difficult to see what it was, he played on, and it triggered something very special in her.

Home again, she thought on the musical possibilities there was, and she decided to try them out. She had a plan, timed and organized so that there might come any good out of it, and now she knew what had to be tested: First, she would see if one could play the harp on the sunbeams, and if it went well, she would test the moon’s beams. They were probably more delicate than the sunbeams, but it could then be taken into account and to consideration.

Sunbeams proved suitable for harp playing, but the moon’s beams could not stay for the vulgar treatment, so Euterpe got a new idea. She saddled Pegasus and rode to the fairies hair salon, and bought a whole bunch of fairie hair. Back home she woven, and made an arch with it, a bow as reminiscent of those used for violin playing. The woven fairie hair was finer than spider silk, and the moon’s beams now played fine.

She asked Erato and Terpsichore, if they would help to form a trio so they could play at various suitable occasions. When she had presented them her research and proven techniques, they agreed, and it was then, the spherical music was founded. Already within three years had passed, they had reached the stars and was known throughout the universe as well as in some black holes deepest down. While they were on their highest. As background music they used the winter’s northern lights, because it was so sonorous, and of the summer northern lights they woven their musical costumes which they used each time they appeared.

They always said no to playing in the black holes, because it was too dangerous, even though they probably could do well to listen to their music there. But all their numbers could be podcasted, and it was really big enough for them, and thus not so bad.

Whenever they played together, was the universe completely silent, for there was something about their music which spurred to devout listening. And by listening to it in the right way, occurred a feeling of what impersonal universal love was.

Ægir's hustru.

Ran dukkede pludselig op af havet
mens hun vred sit lange, våde hår
og bevægede sig mod stranden.
Havet slap modvilligt hendes krop
lidt efter lidt, og solen begyndte straks
at drikke alle de jublende dråber,
den kunne få øje på.

Den glitrede koket et øjeblik
i hver eneste, inden den slugte dem.

Snart laver Ran fodspor i det våde sand,
hvor sølvmågerne piler frem og tilbage
langs havets forposter, mens de, 
akrobatiske og scenevante,
undgår at blive slugte af brændingen.

Apples

“Apples are really something special,” said the beautiful, ripe apple to her seatmate. They lay on hold on a small dish, freshly washed and dried off with a towel that was exclusively used for the purpose.

“Just think of how many adventures that is written about us. Not to forget the metaphor of the fateful apple Eve tempted Adam to take a bite off. We apples have been the model to much. William Tell shot at target with bow and arrow at one of our ancestors who was placed on Tell’s own son’s head. It was, as I recall, 18th. November 1307, and Newton invented gravity because of us. I could go on, if I otherwise was just as good to remember as Ranger apples. Our problem now is, as I see it, that we not only are picked but also have been sprayed.

“There’s also something unpleasant to remember,” grunted the apple which had a green tint. It missed the time where it hung on the tree and were able to enjoy the birds singing and the sun’s warm rays. “I am thinking of Snow White’s evil stepmother, who lured her to the bite of a poisonous apple.”

“True, but the poison was not innate. For we are healthy, juicy and refreshing of nature and can’t help that we sometimes are exploited for evil. It happens everywhere, and many syringes us so that we can keep ourselves pretty long time. It’s fucking uncomfortable, and it weakens as I said also the memory. But what can you do?”

“Have you heard of the apples, the Norse gods eat in Valhalla?”

“No, there are also gods apples? Yes why not?”

“None of the Norse gods stays like longer than about twenty-five years of age, if they do not eat of Idun’s apples. It gives them eternal youth. Now, one may ask if they then live forever, and I think they do. It’s like implicit in the words ‘eternal youth,’ right?”

“I wonder if Valhalla is the same as Paradise, and wonder if we have some genes from Idun’s apples? Yes not because I would be surprised, but it probably means only that those who eat us, hold up well. Personally we have no benefit from it. We are vegetarians and do not cannibals. Just the thought of having to eat an apple, seems to me quite surreal.”

“Our cores are rare eaten by humans. Many are thrown here and there, but birds and animals eat from beginning to end. The cores tend to wander through the digestive system and is spread far and wide. This means that the apple trees are growing very in so many locations. In this way, we keep the, albeit unknowingly, countless beings circuit in good shape so that they live longer than they would otherwise have done, and we keep also doctors from the doors, “if one can hit them,” as they say. So you could add that regarding to what Yduns apples can do, then we have probably a shade of it in our peel.”

“When I die, if I die, I become a Paradise apple, I think, and then I’m curious to se whether Adam and Eve has been allowed to re-enter or not.”

A particular hour

A chalk line on the blackboard

as fast as lightning.

As a gunshot.

As a glimpse from a Shooting star

in the summer night.

The head is resting on the hand

the elbow rests on the table

and the light flows into the mind.

Like the Milky Way is smiling

with buzzing promises in the heart

so gently jubilant.

For everything's just as much

as nothing compared to this.

A butterfly flutters

up in the sunlight

and dissolves subtly and gracefully

in the mind's center.

Roaring surf

Terpsichore came dancing to Melpomene. "We Muser are having a wonderful time here between heaven and earth, but sometimes I wish I could to try to be a human. Not forever, just for a few hours maybe. Humans do also not live forever, but only as long as their bodies can stand the heat. I don't want either to be born or die, but would like to try it without too many frills. Do you think it can be done, dear Mel?"

Melpomene regarded her seriously and thoughtfully. "It can be done, but there is a great risk to it. I am not talking about birth or death here, but if you fall in love, while you're human, you get problems."

"I do not know what you're talking about, Sweet Mel, but  if only I could get the chance to try a few of the fun things that people have the opportunity to do, I am happy. Here I bathe in colorful rainbows and northern lights, but I've seen how much fun they have when bathing in the sea. I would so like to dance in and out of the surf, and slosh  calmly around a little further out, the water seems to me to be quite adventurous. Am I  too far out?"

"You can quickly  get sorrows on your sleeves," said Melpomene with serious mine. She was an experienced lady and understood more than the happy dancing Terpsichore, as mostly was as a playing child. "But do not eat and drink. Only mineral water from natural sources, if you get thirsty while you're there. Otherwise, you can’t return."

Terpsichore was allowed to try, and found herself suddenly on a broad sandy beach with sand dunes on one side and the roaring sea to the other. She saw a rider approaching, and on the back of the horse, was a very handsome young man with long, blond hair, and when he was near Terpsichore , he stopped the horse. Because he could not resist such a beautiful creature who walked so carefree on the beach, and she did not have as much as a piece of clothing on her shapely body.

"Hey man," said Terpsichore boldly. "Want to go swimming?" "No thanks," he replied. "I have hydrophobia and can’t even swim. But take a dip, and I will take care of your clothes and stuff for so long."

He was so confused that he not realized that she had neither clothes or things to take care of, and for the fifth time in his young life, it dawned on him that he had fallen in love at first sight.

Terpsichore thought he replied, a little weird and danced  out into the waves. She could swim without having learned it, and enjoyed her dip while he waited on the beach. He would ask for her hand when she returned. He was quite sure of this for the lightning had struck so deep into him that there was something unnatural about it.

"Sigurd Jensen, debt free warehouse manager," he said when she came in again, while she laughingly threw her wet hair around with a circular head roll. " Will you be my wedded wife for time and eternity?" He knelt in the sand and stretched out his hands forward.

"No , I have fucking not time," she replied . "I have to return soon, and will just try the roller coaster in the amusementpark, before I have to go home again."

The next hours, days and years were Sigurd Jensen, debt free warehouse manager, searching after Terpsichore. He was helplessly in love, and his life was marred and ruined if he not found her again.

Melpomene had monitored the events and thought, "There were something about what I said. But with the opposite sign. Well, so he can learn it can he. When Terpsichore wakes again, we will evaluate her wet earth trip. She has done it so beautiful as only a carefree, genuine Muse can."

Harvest festival

“I love you higher than bird can fly.”

The words stumbled slightly over each other as he pronounced them, but it was also unusual to say something like that. Simple words, straightforward, were the ones one used in everyday life, and simple words were uncomplicated. You said it just as it was.

But the situation was unique and might require special words. He had never tried anything, even remotely, like this.

At the harvest festival, last night, he danced with a very beautiful girl. He had never had a girlfriend, mostly because he was shy, and not because he could not imagine it. Many of the comrades had experiences with girls, and talked freely and naturally about it. He did not like that for this to have a girl to love, was something great and holy. It ought one not be careless with.

But the girl had put up to him and it was then ended in cheek to cheek dancing. Before she disappeared, like a butterfly in the night, she had given him her phone number … and a kiss on the cheek, as he could still feel the sweetness of. He conducted regularly his hand up to the place and got a puzzled, dreamy and questioning look on his face.

“Could it really be true that she had thought of him?”

The following day, he recounted carefully about it, and his friends amused themselves inside. Such a bulky guy had had an experience with a “skirt.” It seemed ridiculous, so there had to be pulled entertainment out of it. After some urgent negotiations they got him compelled to call her up, “because this was what she wanted, and because it was what we use to do.”

He had not thought like this at all. What happened last night was a dream, and it was very frail. He did not dare. This dream he could live the rest of his life, so it should not burst.

But he withstood not pressed, and his friends had probably also right as usual. They knew more about the kind than he, and they were good at football. The one with the other.

“But I don’t know what to say,” he objected.

The comrades knew who the girl was and it was a mystery to them, how he could achieve such a favor with her. She was so attractive that one and all would drop everything they were doing, if they could obtain her favor. So now they would make fun of it, because there had to be done something here, so it was manageable again.

They provided him with the most comical manners, they could find at and laughed at each other while gesticulating repeated them out of his earshot.

“Then you will get her,” they said.

He was confused, but when they said it there might be something about it, because they were friends, so they wanted probably only the best for him.

The comrades struck a circle around him as he rang her up. They rejoiced, for she would laugh her ass off when she heard his clumsy crap.

“I love you, higher than bird can fly. Your eyes are deeper than a forest lake.” He mumbled the words a little choppy and stammering, desperately looking for the comrades approving glances. But even if, somehow, they liked him, were they expecting, and waiting for, his crushing defeat. For it gave the day content.

Emma was talking to her best friend:

“I met a cute guy at the harvest party last night. He is quite different from the others, and you should hear his words when he called me today. For the first time I have met someone who thinks of nothing but football and banter. Him I could fall in love with. He gives me the cutest butterflies in my stomach, and when I’m getting married, it should be with someone like him. And,” she added dreamily, “maybe just him.”

The Golden App

Whether she really was queen or not, reveals this story not, but one thing is certain: She lived like one, of the great resources her customers put in her account each month. And here was not talking about pennies, not at all.

She delivered distilled purchasing power, one could download, and it was not so easy to produce. It might seem a bit scary too, because it cost many people the most precious they knew: Their love affairs and their lives.

She lived in a palace built on top of the Mammon Mountain which was a mammoth of a mountain. From here she had a wonderful view. She lived so high up, that many of the clouds could only be seen from above, and they hided almost Tears Valley where the unhappy suppliers of purchasing power searched in blindness after what they had lost.

It is reported that she was a relative of the evil fairy from the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty, but although it is an adventure, there might well be something to it. It all depends on the glasses you wear when you read stuff like that. The words must of course first be filtered through water from the Well of Wisdom, but then there is also food for thoughts.

Her last victim, Mister Sweetheart, lived happily in Shangri-La, where he shared table and bed with Tallulah. One beautiful, or fateful, day he sat and wove a garland to his beloved. The Queen of the Mammon Mountain had for a long time had him in sight, and appeared now on the arena.

“Hi, I’m Penny Jane, Queen of the Golden App. Would you like to see the Milky Way from above?”

“Can it be done?” He looked at her in surprise and remarked how beautiful she was, but he could not interpret the flashes in her eyes. Whether they were like shooting stars or lightning, was difficult to determine.

Her developed third eye, which he could not see, staring concentrated on his lower chakras until it was possible for her to turn them on. She reached a hand toward him, and he took it willingly, for now kribbling it throughout the body, and much more than he was used to. They hugged, and both rose then up in the air like slow tied together rockets, and suddenly rotating they to the left and flew with blinding speed far, far away from Shangri-La.

They landed softly on a green spot with lots of trees and shrubs around, and the Queen of the Golden App seduced him effortlessly with a bombastic dance, which he found quite irresistible. Then she disappeared into thin air, and he looked dazed down his body and realized that he, in return for having lost a belt, braces, credit cards and passwords had got his actual age back. The smooth skin was replaced with wrinkled skin, and what used to be muscle, seemed now as limp dishcloths.

The sky was clear and blue, he could not see one drifting cloud, and he did not know where he was. Then he heard the complaint and whining, and now he saw that some people walked with bowed heads and searched, with eyes blinded by bitter tears of remorse, and one of those who had been looking a long time, told him that they were in the Tears Valley, which was also called the Fools Valley. Everyone tried to spot gold, the gold was everywhere in small chunks, because the goddess Freya had shed so many tears here, and she owned now millions of dollars in solid gold, and amber from those tears which fell in the ocean, as we have been told many times before. Anyone who complained and wailed was insolvent, all came from Shangri-La, and with one accord they yearned back.

At night, with no clouds, he could only see the Milky Way from below, as he was used to, but he would not bow to fate, for he knew he was loved and missed, so it mattered, for all the world, to get back to his beloved Tallulah, as Penny Jane had fooled him to leave.

He remembered an adventure he had been told in Shangri -La. It was about guiding stars, and he understood that he too had a beacon that shone incessantly. During the day, it could not be seen with the naked eye, and probably neither by night, but it was there anyway, and if he followed its silent instructions, as always rained down on him as invisible dew drops, he would be able to find back home. He could only read the guide star’s messages if he was completely quiet inside, and tried to live with his heart chakra awake. It could well be difficult when one were full of sadness and longings and almost empty of energy, but there was no way around it.

He therefore decided to take the inner road and along the road’s ditches, he would pick a bouquet of flowers as Tallulah should have when he got home, for home would he. Sooner or later. He believed it, and he had heard that faith can move mountains. He would also try to listen to the star’s whispering, guided instructions, for where there is a will there is a way.