The barking strange sound of Wild geese envelope us as we fly through a special part of cyberFoolandia. Far away below are the strange lands which time has touched and visited. They swirl by as wisps of clouds and rays of sunlight filter through the large flock singing and crying as they travel.
Each goose magically can fall in to the draft of the goose before it, so that as they fly they spread into a beautiful chevron as they find the clear spot next to each others wings and maintain this position...all pulling together...all moving beautifully as blood cells inside the arteries...all dancing a cosmic dance which makes the geese seem to be a larger organism.
The land below breaks into sea. A long expanse of dark ocean dazzles and reflects the light as the camera smoothes and pulls along the waters edge. Still the crying sound of geese. Sonorous and strange like the booming calls of ancient dinosaur tribes the geese keep up this call which is music and song and story. The sound is so strong and nearly deafening in their midst that the sound has an effect of filling the rib cage and vibrating the vertebral column. The sound has changed effortlessly into the long thin high wail of a bagpipe with several deep and booming drones filling out the back ground. The high wailing reed voice is keening the frail song of parting, the unknowing way of the long road. As the sun breaks across the water we see the geese moving in effortless and beautiful unison.
The geese are not flying alone. As the sun flows across their luminescent feathers on their backs you can see that tiny effervescent fairies are holding onto their down and riding the surfing wind of high cyberFoolandia whooping and singing their way across the sky. All the ancestors born and the descendants to come are riding the high current calling to each other as they ride the back of the wind.
Below is a three masted galleon. It is lit from within in the rear where a puddle of light falls into the wake left by the ship. The sun falls golden and orange into the crashing sea as the boat slides along smooth and slick on the cresting high seas of adventure.
Inside the rear cabin where the captain sleeps and the crew is free to seek refuge during night or day a card game is going on. A circle of ethnically diverse and charismatically conversing sailors are gathered around the round rough hewn oak table. In the middle of the table are large painted cards with gold leaf edges. There are no obviously numbered cards and each card has an elaborately drawn image on it. The volunteers are playing tarochini.
Tonight is a special night and so they are drinking spirits. The captain has afforded them each a strong measure of his best bottles of brandy, provisioned with this and a rousing song being played out by Billybig on concertina the scene is indeed a lively one, peg tom is dancing a jig for Terry, who claps and whistles while the little man dances keeping half time with the sharp stomp of his whittled wooden leg.
At the table the Irish cook and the sufi pilot major are sweating over the long game of mystical shields. Cook's dark beard and piercing blue eyes peek out from under a red and white watch cap as he watches the pilot reach towards the deck and take a card from the top of the dark blue oversized cards. The game was not a mere wager or sporting event, the direction and destiny of the bonded crew were at stake.
The pilot sat long and lean with a thin face and an intense gaze. He sat dressed in a long dark coat made of hundreds of patches carefully sewn together with fine sure stiches. The stitched coat made it seem as if he sat amidst a coat made of sky and sea, the strong brown hands and head emerging like islands in the far pacific.
On the table in front of him is a picture of a woman pouring water into a river. One foot is in the water and one is one the ground.Above her head are seven pointed stars with an eighth large eleven pointed star directly above her head.
All the assembled oooh and ahh at this fortuitous turn of events. Food was lean and the prospects of a good harbor and a safe place to scrape the hull and spend some days off the water fishing and gathering provisions sounded sweet. The tempo of the caterwalling rolling jig picks up as the pilot knocks his fist against the table. "Its done" he says " we make for the west current".
Under the bed is a large chest. Inside the chest are the cherished possesions and gathered prizes of the captain. Though it is important that any and all can enter his room at any time, none will disturb his chest.
The captain makes for this wood box and reaches into it under the bed, far and away there is a bottle within filled with a magic elixir.
The captain removes an amethyst bottle with a crystal stopper, inside is a dark red liquid. In his other hand is a wooden goblet.
"My friends gather around" he shouts gesturing them all near him. " Tonight we make a special toast" the tall strong dark man laughs and nearly bounces on his feet for energy and love of the crew which flys these high seas of adventure by his side. "Tonight we make a magical toast".
The adventurers gather around, ten in the center and another thirteen around.
Into the wooden cup go the wine contents of the vial. Dark with the extracted
stains of exotic plants and bitter with the taste of old cork the wine filled
the wooden goblet.
The pilot places a small paper package of colorful powder into the drink.
He speaks.
"some day in some other world we will meet again in the forms of our descendants. In this world we will not have to kill, we will not have to fight or slave, we will be able to sing and dance and play together endlessly with sunsets and morris bells and so the living stream will always continue."
The circle pass the cup solemnly drinking and cogitating on the matter.
The pilot continued, his night star coat encircling him and swirling star energy all around him.
" we will be magnets to each other, nothing can keep us apart, not death, not war not heaven or hell" the pilot spoke with a smile on his face.....
the boat swirls away below until it is small making its way across the current in its spunky galleon profile. The sea is flashing and sparkling until it is no longer sailing across a sea of water instead a sea filled with small cut crystal spheres. The speres flash and reflect a sweet pure white light that seems to shine from within and below. The boat is sailing through a virtual sea of flashing and dancing gems. As we pull away and see the greater view we see that it is a large churning vat of swirling spere diamonds, reflecting back this pure white light and gathering in the fairie lights foating down from the backs of the wild geese. Like snow these lights are passing down to the earth and at the same time they rise and float upwards into the sky.
man in the moon winks us good night.