Singing sha-la-la, in la-la land.

And, what about me? little David asked.


What about me?


And what about all those beggars and brawlers,
mis-fits and gays, and be-fits and strays?


And what about me?


Better I pack my belongings in (my) Matilda,
and then walk away, shaded in dreams,
away to la-la land.


No, no question mark, there.


Away, shiver me timbers, away to where rainbows
play with the grass and away to where elfs and unicorns
jokingly jump on clouds made of marshmallow, minds gone
astray, then becoming awake, floating in and out of realities
landings, to and fro shores where the sun, the waves the
sand and the pebbles ask no one for permission,
ask no one for permission to be.


And, what about me? little David asked.


Well, David, I think that by now, You know.


I think that You know, by now, little David, that
the room there is for la-la's and beggars, and muggers
and laggards, need not always be placed way over
rainbows or far above clouds,


and I think that You know, by now, little David, that the
song that was once placed in Your chest and deep inside the
belly, inside and outside and everywhere, that that song is
always to grow to become first a spring, then a river,


and then in times not too far away be as the sea itself,
broad and mighty, once again,


and I think that You know, by now, little David, that the
shores of our rivers are made barren only for us to learn
that beauty rests in those flowers not yet there, and that
grace rest in the sounds of a wind once again playing
those similar chords of a song understood also
by that bee now busy drinking nectar,

and I think that You know, by now, little David, that this
place, right here, is in and of, also You.


I think that You know that, by now.


And I think that Dani knows it, too, that this place, right here,
is of You, David, as in her, as in me, as of us as in we,
as in all, as in one,

as in me, and her, and him, and You,

and as in a big brightly coloured blue and yellow and green and red ball, inwardly and outwardly mixing colours and tinges, shapes and emotions, and most often quite busy hiding itself behind tapestrys and drapes and curtains placed inside of la-la's and sha-la-la's and bla-bla-blah's and ha-ha's, 

and that those colours of that ball if always different,
are yet somehow always pretty much the same.


I think that You know that, by now,

and I think that Dani knows it, also,


and I think that as much as also Lotta knows this,
also Tom, who waits somewhere, most likely knows as well,
and I think that I will sometime get to know it better, too.

May the force be with You!

L