Our most entertaining wise prophets,

our saints and messianic geniuses

are those who mentor us about what not to do

to sustain abundant life,

what could not possibly truthfully communicate,

what could not become orthodox faith again,

how not to become,

how not to cooperatively come together,

how not to commodify one’s life and relationships to other people,

and other natures,

and why.

 

Polypathic saints without a globally embracing sense of humor

about what we should not be doing and being,

yet continue becoming despite our organic orthopraxis

and permacultured plans,

are either hypocrites,

liars,

wrong,

or all of the above.

 

Under our shared Sun,

on our shared Earth,

nothing grows more grace-filled,

or karmically appropriate,

or mindfully compassionate,

more content,

more enlightened and wise,

than optimally sustaining a kind

and mutually grateful sense of humor

about our interdependent selves,

lives,

futures and pasts,

our messy shared-Earth home,

a paradise of stand up together comedic opera,

and mutual applause,

however silently smirked

through soft-eyed gold horizon stares.