Pancho Villa raided my dreams as
I feigned sleep that night naked
in the dry Sonoran Desert south
of the sacred Sedona vortex.

How many days I wandered lost
forgetting the rotting wooden ship from
that distant dead star we
sailed from a light year ago.

Now I spend blue sky days gone
from writing songs of youth when
time stood still & quiet for
a life not yet ended or begun.

Do not wait to write your music or
write your poetry or sing your songs or
run your races or to love deeply for 
immortality is a seductive mistress.