Dream Time

Riding the notes of a didjeridoo as on a skateboard and just before it fades we casually step off to a rising female voice pushing to the fore by the steady beat of a talking drum. we fly in late afternoon reverie to the sounds of oil and water, we aum mane padme hum to a symphony, of polyphony and rhythmomy, lost in a moment of anonymity frozen in a time continuity, given over to total nullity, until the beat changes and ascends, quick moments awareness, lost to good ends.