You are listening to late night tales

Welcome to the late night tale story

I remember

Written and read by me

Rick Holland

I remember the tone the sunlight made

Reflecting as it did

That first breath of late night morning air

The feeling that here was anywhere

And anywhere was kind

Plumes of smoke funnel overland and meet us there

As though our late night tales joined to feed our breathing

And each breath kept golden remnants of a fireside, tale inside

Safe but boundless

To hang like bubbles over us

With each completed breath

Not born or dying

But reassembling the very air

A ceiling to our meaning

Or spring for new sounds to bound from

No essential measure of beginning or belief

No escape and no relief, but safe

Safe as shapeless

Shapeless on a turning wheel of casting possibilities that change the wheel

The tick becomes the imagined, and steel to silk

I remember the tone the sunlight made

And each time it comes to visit

I remember and taste and scent

And scents released from sense

The sense of everything of golden, I remembered

Even as it slips into the course of these events

And this, my friend, is home

Right here and in this tone of sun and fire and form

Where listening is a birth each time

And feeling creeps to embers

Notes suggest in emblems reminiscing of a nascent form of wealth

From long before gold could be held

When cold was felt

And breath was celebrated for that very rearrangement of the air

Which placed us here