24 DEC 2016 · Oh four bell, in twenty set sail glass to lip, a smoke signal sip sets benign mind suns to rise in the West. Circumspect, my memory strains, I sit and face Far East toward the warm rains, play some Palmy and meditate upon where we'll meet again later. And, should I merit the chance, I would dance to the Equator from the Tropic of Cancer to abide for all time, to roam the sky among the Universal Mind, sabai jai. 🙏🙏🙏.