Tuning Forks by George Page

We dream one another, while the tired sounds of stars fade into yellow sunlight and

the whispering moon sings fireflies into the night. We have storied each other into our

respective fictions. Dispensing with all apparent facts, it is clear we are the ones who

have been dreamed. We exist transfixed by the mirrors of information overload, of future shock.

Everything I know has an expiration date and it is now.. Knowings are like flickering fireflies. It's all a binomial game of on and off. We are digital holographic pixels on an outdoor movie

screen. We are simply a metaphor for something less or more. Fueled by doubt and faith, we

are the vacillation, the vibration between a window and a door, the condensation and evaporation of time and eternity, into a mystery of foreign shores. We are wordy silences dancing

With mythological lore. We are tuning forks, beyond the less, beyond the more, beyond all metaphor.

• Acoustic
• folk
• meditation
• new age
• poetry
• spoken word
• Vilcabamba