Potent little white lies becomes words of love

to shelter,

discipline,

form.

Creative ways to protect

break the silence of wonder

puncturing the massive balloon that is occupied with fear and dilution.

We build our personal caves

gather sticks and meat,

hunt for wisdom,

and learn what to take away,

what you wish you knew sooner.

Share your wisdom

sprinkle them out in waves

sometimes perceived

and at times altered

sparingly seasoned.

For the kindest thing one can do

is sometimes to blind you from the truth.

And with your lessons you will sow,

for the next generation to grow.

Voices, I hear

All stand clear.

Leave me to my lonesome.

End this fight,

No passion, or might

To each their own

Ignite.

Never told a like before

Enlightened the poor

So be it, voice, I listen.

Did you know what I heard

An empty word

Yet never a word of fiction.

When she looked up at the midnight sky, panting violently, she viewed the lights of all eleven light-staves, shooting up through the atmosphere, pushing through the ozone layer on their way away from earth. Quite poetically, the substance of Electra left earth in the same way it once arrived—all eyes on it.