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Culture Documents
II.
Show a patient death
And again be in sad weather;
Even in sunny gloom in pain,
Cash out the clasped reality.
Fault now the day,
The stupid wholesomeness outside,
Repeat your word to the wind,
Its impossible drifting among all that's heavenly
To reflect its silver with some comfort
When friendships and love are blue,
To have the comfort of a wealthy time,
To pass on with the life that pounds you,
To whisper for flames or for worlds,
You love the formula of the day too,
And of the evening of secretive progress,
On your throne, stretching widest,
III.
When power becomes wacko power
Falling forthward from the origin
Into shape from a swaggering patience,
The tropic lightning comes.
If the things of parents are sweet,
But against you the world pounds,
Then time yourself upon the pale road,
Shield yourself from death a little,
Know how its power is a monster,
Creep in patience to your origin,
IV.
The stubborn ugliness of gloom
To show its weather to a friendship,
V.
Grow rude grass your body up,
I am rendering my complaints to read,
Grow beyond your unbearable sadness of childhood,
I am crossing more worlds of wealth,
Your sadness in a bubble-storm like a grave,
Crossing the feelings of the poet without laughter,
To shape the storm and interpret the Angel,
To water with feelings your rude song,
To love that Angel on your bad floors.
I am to water these things with a thin spirit,
With a love in a dream, farewell weather,
With these things at my origin on the golden shore,
With vocabularies falling into the water,
Falling pale into the wacko water,
Falling, swaggering to know more things,
The pale sky above the sea this time,
And the journey and progress under its shield,
Are striving a little with the pale halcyon.
Are an honor to the worst water in progress.
The peaks of the time of months,
VI.
Organizing some wisdom from the weather,
People master their gloom,
Fancy images pass them,
A storm is out of welcome,
The hurricane will shape into machine,
Will clear the widest worlds,
Will reflect the matter of the day,
And will race in cycles of contradiction,
When it pounds, farewell to knowledge,
To things, to the afternoon, to truth,
When it becomes frolicsome, when deep and blue,
And the terrible whirling does not comfort,
Then break with your pretty desires,
Shut your faded day up.
VII.
The happy Universe has spread out,
It conquered somewhere all unto its end,
It outgrew itself in its existence of colors,
It touched my body in dawn.
The happy souls of the Universe
Are often diverted by its beauty from hope,
In the dawn that gently is clearing,
While given knowledge of a lie:
VIII.
Another weird thesis about everything
To lead us everywhere without meaning,
Another idle meditation in the morning
To illuminate another primitive spirit
To remember its sad studies,
IX.
Beholding a blue situation
Revealing a bridge for the sun
Drifting and replacing day for day,
I by nighttime was influenced by these images,
By my sunny and heavenly subjects.
The evening I pursued in sleep,
My whole soul alive
With little response or riches.
Reading becomes a beautiful knowledge,
And a calm power becomes stronger
To keep beginning from out another yesterday
To flow golden over these distances
Where a second pathway of words
Must cast clouds upon their totality.
-Yafah
X.
Day was collected into dust,
It had organized sadness or kindness for us,
It had to change its face today
As it floated and situated itself in the skies,
Both in order to rest and to keep going was its process
In a final completion of my questions.
Forming its best show
That I become confident to see right
All the loitering imagery of the countryside,
A pattern of new moments,
The day replacing itself with tomorrow,
Became visionary wonder clear,
As the entire Universe reshuffled
Signifying and combining for more power.
- Elaine
XI.
Skies flow above the grass
Of the garden until they stall with storm,
The invisible throat of thunder
Shouts at the poet and Angel alike,
XII.
A bubble flows in the storm
Until it stalls before the blooming countryside.
With complaints the storm shouts at it.
The bubble tells it of its childhood in a song.
The storm-clouds do not care to listen to these things,
The bubble drops down into a sad grave,
And scatters its spirit everywhere
In order to cast out for a fun poem
And in order that it may play by reaching farther out
Than the storm its lost body,
The weather claps and we hear.
XIII.
When your wonder fails to be supreme,
And you fear the unpleasant weather,
When gloom ruins your light,
And you are devastated and shatter with more questions
That you think you need for resolution,
Which in time you can claim again,
You seem to have bothered the wind with thoughts
And are banished from the loud outside.
So you travel inside all but free,
And yawn that things will be better.
Stretching toward another fancy tomorrow,
You rest with the heart of the day
Comforted by simplicities.
Toward a gloriful tomorrow you nap.
- Ora Ora Tiferetot with Billy McBride
XIV.
What you behold in the lonely night
I have searched for all throughout an angry atmosphere,
XVII.
When afternoon comes to life,
We live a little more in its deep,
And follow the day to be more free.
XVIII.
Years destruct the landscape
Spreading across a peaceful plot.
We return to the surface of our paradise
And flow with the cycles of the weather,
As it we rant about the Universe forever
Pounding our desires into song,
Or are silented by the hunger in the day.
We stand enough in its light
And cry out for more help
To battle the changing skies
Which turn forever into a dream.
XIX.
Xenophanes has a regard for the gulf of night,
As does Sappho with her people in the light of the sky,
Another Homer comes to bless us in our darkness
With another Achilles angry and loud;
See how Achilles is riding over the shining landscape.
And what beauty of Sappho has in her happiness,
As eternal Homer, who sparked the flames,
See how Sappho is tinkering with pretty people,
Like her peer, Pindar of the speedy, they have arrival,
They have their own ancient change for freshness,
Have their own jolly vocabularies too.
And while Archilochus is worth more tomorrows,
Solon has a shield for silence,
But strong Pindar came without any sadness.
- Elaine
XX.
XXII.
Potential flow, reflective night,
The master's lushy word,
The peaks that shine when we are sick
Outside the body low,
A Spring wind in the morning light,
The pathway of the bird,
Reflective fields of heaven's span,
XXIII.
A meaning has a dimmer Spring
With naming all the stage
Where trees will fall into the glow
Since silence was exposed.
A perfect peace and marriage proud
At home together join
The beauty of the ancient world
In wonder time at night.
The atmosphere is never one
In patient shining months
A boundless beauty everywhere
Does join with wishes time.
Enough ahead of pounding talk,
Vocabularies change,
No scorn for even farthest books,
Their newness in some hands.
- Marilyn
XXIV.
A stronger love made knowledge work,
A sparkle rose from flame,
It whirled into the starlit sky,
I stood with more room now.
I looked in afternoon for rain,
And dimmer meaning filled,
Some words rose in that vision's time,
I wished for perfect words.
The rain was given everywhere,
It caught a little light;
In never silenced happiness
I even sat to rest.
The comfort held me while I read,
I listened losing time;
The days were beautiful and good;
To read was to be free.
- Arielle
XXV.
The weather cycles new destructive grey
Diverted from the plain.
Some wholesome patience becomes lost,
The world a bed for rain.
With light and endless stimuli,
Our welcome world to flood
Becomes for day compounded clear,
It comes with healthy light.
Some rain or cold air far away,
Unpleasant weather new,
It lurks in wetness with a wind
That makes unstable shout.
A beautiful great countryside
Bears somewhere all that wind.
Our helping days are better days
When storm and gloom have passed.
- Shnoonah with Billy McBride
XXVI.
The sad shore pounds
A little destructive of its deep.
Heaven is stretching widest
Into the stuffy afternoon.
To master the terrible flames,
The poem is crossing out its end,
XXVIII.
There is never enough knowledge
Which wrestling, brings resolution
Helping one to the great paradise
That the world can join.
What Genius desires knowledge,
Its own Teachings to light that enchant,
When thousands already have it,
But if it gives no resolution for hope?
The wonderful sun of the morning
On its voyage to the heights above the ocean
Sitting motionless at dawn
XXIX.
You celebrate your efforts and find
That there is a happiness around the landscape too.
On the little grassy paths into town
You amuse yourself sometime with sunshine.
You did take care for the withering earth,
So you are proud now and celebrate tomorrow too
Until your exit from this landscape
On a journey into the shadows
Or into the light of another.
Wherever you go, silence shall not dominate,
Life is all but private you have learned;
Into dust your Being makes its way,
And the city still swaggers on with you somehow.
There in the dust, you will find your greatest power,
Some prized pleasure, your reward,
You will never again be left out or lost,
XXX.
The world was strong with books once;
We still find them a little,
And show more wonder at their own newness,
And then we cast them back into the beauty of the sea.
We are happy to create more people,
Then the time comes to idle from our complexity.
We used to play with everything we could,
But now we collect a charity for the poor.
Our environment came already constructed,
And we stand responsible in the world.
People say to be inspired
In order to bring more splendor to the Universe.
Wonder and money are collected
For our heavenly journey into eternity too,
The beauty we see all around is a newness,
And we say that the poor must become better.
- Penelope
XXXI.
We desire no end time,
It would make life absent from books,
What our peers create for our idle time,
These builders have constructed more newness.
I know there are bad arguments
That to live is to be grouchy,
And I pray that for whatever we rant about,
That a reward of a calm forever will come.
We multiply our knowledge everyday,
The images we know are unloose in the light;
The day sings to us all afternoon,
And we keep curious into its own darkness.
Nothing has been completed for the poor,
We know that their sadness is now,
That they too desire more knowledge from great books,
But they say that without beauty there is no hope.
- Yafah
XXXII.
Forever cannot be placed out of our reach,
Tomorrow all the day it will be won by some again,
Shadows of the world, rushing at tomorrow,
XXXIII.
I master the ocean weather,
Every day lives in its own weather,
So much progress comes into the light of the blue
As the ocean pounds barbaric.
I need a little comfort for these desires,
The ground is rising with the water,
The widest contradiction is stretching below,
And again with deep words the waves slide.
XXXIV.
The rest of the light is hidden for now,
It made into worth the interesting day,
The light was pale as a cloud
Shining into the silence before night.
Today became separated from the sunshine,
The freshness of the afternoon on its path
Into the calm darkness was perfect,
And a Spring paradise was everywhere.
Flowers were in each garden on the landscape,
The simple heavens came unloose with light for them,
The soft air was waving farewell
To the lonely day in friendship.
Wrestling with the light, I went losing time,
XXXV.
An interesting tree in the light
Seems healthy to be outside with me,
The hills rival the beauty of the clearing,
And during this welcome time, I can think.
I sleep when the hours are overcast.
Words span into my poem in some supply,
And with them every dimmer thing becomes light
As I remember the fullness of the sunshine.
From the experience of another lost day,
I remember everything of worth,
The years rush but life ahead is peaceful,
The mind brings back the light into the world.
Still the madnesses of the barbarians rage,
A proud afternoon is not as welcome anymore by them,
They say that one man's memory, if indeed so great,
Must be dangerous
If in its cycles of light and love they are still poor.
- Valerie
XXXVI.
The wind is slacking powerfully,
It is calm although the skies are grey,
I cannot wait for the sunshine
When sailing with friends, it is a glory.
Sailing into an aura with a muse,
A poet is inspired to wholesomeness,
Our poem is furnished with pleasance and spirit,
We pick these sensitivities out for a life.
Engulfed in the play of light,
Ten-thousand years are piled;
The melodies of the music of paradise
Build the best things of those pleasant years.
The sounds of the breath of my muse
Project such an undertune into my sleep;
Nothing is needed but peacefulness
For a solitary hope to return me to day.
- Diana
XXXVII.
XXXVIII.
Being blessed with the endless golden sky,
Being within the light of tomorrow or today,
A thing in the weather, a poem,
A love is crossing beyond not rushing.
The proud glow of heaven,
XXXIX.
Come smallest undertune,
A smile makes you welcome in the home.
It is not useless to be alive
With the simple shallow flowers
Which are constructed without rage or pain.
Selfhood with its welcome smile is eternally good,
And any simple pain of a selfhood that is now
Will make its theatrical farewell one day,
Even after it did conquer a body multiplying itself there.
With wounded wings and some questions
XL.
It is good to be without much obscurity,
Over years we have experienced many teachings
Wrestling over our questions to learn from them.
Paradise must again shape into show.
The end is overcome in a twinkle,
More beautiful years twinkle ahead of us,
And we join with their blessing for all of time.
Morning comes together on the landscape.
On a journey into the greatest kingdom
The morning is separated from the endless images
Of the violet shadows beyond the sun,
Nothing is found more welcome it seems.
We return into darkness at evening,
A richness of the sky is coming tomorrow.
Yet, while even into that motionless shadow
XLI.
You claim your shine at the peaks of the clouds,
And pass through the clear darkness.
The day is drifting like my happiness,
It will branch out its light in the next.
The pathway of your destiny is reflective,
It is drifting too, flying through my shine.
The hurt that I have is healing
Like a beam stretched on the dirt loitering.
The supreme weather seems always new,
With our love and our wonder we rival it.
Everyday we answer the Universe,
The power of our words to each other is just as great.
Questions come now about how to hope.
Our desires for it in this Universe are strong
For everything to return to good,
For a healthy resolution to our pains.
- Yafah
XLII.
In your reign, can you stand the comfort
As your project pulls and speeds away?
Like it, clouds fold over with fuzz;
To their own annihilation they come,
And then the sky is clear.
We will sit upon the floors of paradise,
Or fly to the cliffs through the clouds
Where each whirling surface brightens,
Where our peaceful reality does not roll away.
The light has come, it is loitering,
It plays in the kingdom of the day,
Clouds leave us with a little sight
Of our paradise to be, under which they are moving.
When the light ceases to return,
And night is unloose in the country,
We clasp the hands of our friends
Who stay by us in the darkness in the end.
- Shay
XLIII.
The revengeful weather is not helping us,
Yet the gloomy night drifts away,
XLIV.
A clear and golden springtime
Is like the pathway to your eternal pleasance
Since it is a victory over gloom and hurt.
It is clear and winter.
In the darkness of the underworld we are free
To beguile our gloom with more drama,
And if we like we can face and glare
XLV.
Together we shine in our home,
To our home we speed with a blessing.
The light of my soul is with friends,
For with that throng to play, my own light exists.
But I fall sore with a hunger
For sunshine, I am selfish.
The light in the kingdom will return
And fall widest upon me.
The years seem motionless and farther ahead,
Tomorrow brings its moments and health;
Through public spaces the traveling day
XLVI.
The brave return to the deep,
Everywhere projected, in the sea they are best.
Heaven's music above is an awesomeness,
People of paradise everywhere
Show themselves to the brave in the deep.
We build up an anonymous power,
And breathe with power or wait for it,
Weather happens in life, to it,
It places its anchor in our deep.
An ample knowledge came yesterday,
And the soul faded a little in the light,
An endless wind was pushing all.
I hope a little for it to go away,
For the wind to stop its furious flow.
We reign forever on the landscape.
- Penelope
XLVII.
A dove is on a branch in the Spring,
Her kingdom span is separated from me.
But I see its reflective gates
From my own branch where I would claim for beauty.
Money can shine like beauty, but is not;
The dove goes into the light of a cloud,
No gloom there can beam on the bird.
Even it has a glare like money.
The dove is a beauty in the light,
Over the peaks of clouds goes the Angel,
The Angel is outside flying in the air
That will clear the day for the dove.
My questions keep the beautiful constructed for me:
Is there a heart always around a soul?
Or is the high weather something for me also to love?
What will the beautiful days ahead answer?
- Thrikbot
XLVIII.
Swelling clouds were falling
XLIX.
The starlit sparkle above the bloom,
Over floors of flowers, an unfrozen world,
Is pushing its light into my sight.
Without any happiness, bringing an incident of woe,
Eternally the gloom now is falling over me
Where not even a sunny dream of happiness can exist.
L.
Silence in the Universe is weird
Being nothing but idle
While helping me too be calm
About the wild or sad life I have.
In a wild thicket somewhere weeping
Is a spirit for want of roses.
Light is thrown out onto almost everything
Helping us to remember again our world.
Sun and rain are separated by blue,
A clear weather is outside now,
Life makes its voyage to repeat
The cycles for more stubborn wisdom.
LI.
I am wrestling to remember what I had yesterday
Of glory or of knowledge with its light;
The existence of love is the justice
Against the strong gloom that returns to us all.
An Angel is patient with my desires.
Soon some happiness will awaken my spirit
Because I see that kindness returns to the world
And to its wonderful simple people and from them.
Rendering the words of that blessing,
Over many awed hours that have stimulated me,
I am ready and free to sing and forgive,
To welcome a change from my pain.
The beautiful landscapes that I am closest to,
Matter even more than that interesting time I had in them,
Since what I remember of them, and that I remember,
Bring within me a beautiful light when my hours are dark.
- Grouchy
LII.
Another meaningful afternoon was valued by me.
It had closed up halfway during the day
And I saw how it was only afternoon.
Another pain and rage would conquer me
So I rested instead for good
Since the pain went dancing whenever I did.
The simple flowers conquered me
They were welcome and good once at our home.
They were won, every one of them great
Until the weather became mystical.
The wheel of the weather brought sadness.
That plain weather was blank and old.
Love for me had been an eternal matter.
My own eternal weeds had scattered
Across some unseen countryside where they grew
Where a new weather conquered what had conquered me.
- Bertha
LIII.
You figured out some knowledge and spread
LIV.
Even the disobedient are returning to sleep
Though their widest worry still lurks,
Their appointment has passed with a knowledge,
And some babyish hurt experienced is gone,
A knowledge that sleep will not clear
The stronger state of some eternal worry.
But the flowers are beauties that cure my own guilt,
LV.
What others merely say, I have valued,
So again I come for flowers,
They are close by in the weedy day.
To hold the golden daffodil,
To breathe the odor of the outdoors,
I find the weary day is not long enough
To be pushed along relinquishing more delight
From the day as it falls with sunshine.
My body lay on top the water,
I can stand the war that people have with me,
And I stay still while others poke me,
LVI.
I lie in the countless grasses in the mist,
In them I find a new patience
With the things that pass by with delight.
People come to listen to me talk
While I feel the sunshine or the rain
That others remember when indoors
When I am not.
The honeycomb is spreading while I work,
In time the day lifts upward orienting me
Like the Angel aiding this vernacular.
I would love to lie all day here
Held in more existence with the world;
To paradise I would fly with the other beyond time.
But I avoid leaping to that awesomeness
Since something is set, I know not what,
And the dawn brakes on the mountain
And everything around me splits into high and low.
LVII.
I yield on a rock and hear myself;
Where the flood and the sand meet, I sing,
The meaning goes on at the shore,
The words I give are not so silent.
A day stretches by me and becomes dark,
I call out for waves and they come,
So I leave the rock for the sea
From the harbor and landing wide out.
Everybody would desire this voice of my muse,
Who makes a song out of an eternal trust.
All struggles are handled better by us all
When we ask for help with existence.
I listen to myself shout with delight,
And rise to the time showing patience.
The world can battle me but I am at peace,
The same peace I begged for it to make has come to me.
- Amy
LVIII.
LIX.
Other questions spring out for any knowledge
To set that imagination of mine to work,
Every charming answer sets up its own luck.
Since complexity only dies into the mystical,
Readings spring from those new beginnings,
And the readings are as simple as water.
Everyday this bird of mine fights with the breezes of the sea,
It strives in that Universe for some prize,
The breezes of the landscape roar.
The tree holds together its leaves,
Till the summer closes and they drop,
It holds only the spaces where they were.
The poor spirits toss in the wind
Which came together with the imagination,
The spirits leave spinning through the air.
- Yafah
LX.
The old day removes its light
As the sun waves farther in the air,
It drains the light from the sky,
And I feel happy for what I saw.
A spirit checks the Universe for love,
Love tops that labor,
Every smallest being builds some love in their day,
They tell a kindness to each other.
The child solves what a man cannot,
Long feuds are ending, I see it now,
It is all a person desires from complexity.
When love a child gains,
LXI.
The mountain shows up in the morning,
The first light of the day bridges another scene for me,
When the sun rolls out of the heavens,
My heart is not as bothered about the world.
As the day loses its colors,
And night breathes from dry breezes,
I test my knowing in darkness,
Still hope hinges the Universe together from ruin.
Dawn follows dawn, healing our pains,
As do the smiles of others weeping with delight,
A sadness can ruin a friendship.
Yet forever itself opens up with much progress
Changing idle despair into eternal love.
- Arielle
LXII.
I meet with adoration the years ahead,
I trust they will enable some rest for me.
LXIII.
The mystical stars arc above the sea,
They make the night matter,
Free from the hours of time
Dimming at last into day.
A silence crawls forth,
It saves me from words,
I lost them out there to gain more within,
They go on within me and clear up a poem.
Any beauty at all is welcome to me,
Light gets itself caught beyond the overcast sky,
I barely can tell if forever can be,
LXIV.
No spirit can ever return from a silence
To feud with the fun still in the world.
Afternoon goes rushing away
Solving again the impossible day.
But nothing can remove what is sad
In those who have lost their own fun
Unless they can remember to build a bridge
Back to this perfect kingdom of ours.
The weather above, free to pass
With the power to change brings darkness.
Here people speak not about ugliness,
They only pair up and welcome more beauty.
- Arielle
LXIX.
Forthward a glow in the soul,
The wishes of a grassy soul,
The light in the soul with silence,
LXX.
The dim weather is cold,
A paradise is evermore above tomorrow,
A dim tomorrow comes before those years
Of love at the border where we will live.
During a pristine time in the countryside
In order to see an outrageous day again,
Friends will wonder everyday
About the new weather and keep talking about it.
A wetness is shining around,
The sick time projected is close,
Friends themselves are shining in time
For thou, tomorrow with beauty.
- Grouchy
LXXI.
A dove faces a cloud.
Peaks of gloom that flowed above
Come loose in the wind and pass
As its body flies through the light.
A day walls up when lost.
But now its span of shine and beam
Begin to be compounded by a glare,
The reflective morning brings beauty.
But destiny can ever jam up the morning,
I care for the light, for what is afterward too,
I celebrate wind, shine,
Darkness, and drama and all
That play for the beauty around.
- Elaine
LXXII.
LXXIII.
Peace hinges upon another gladness,
Clouds softly lurk above,
Yet I wish for even more beauty to be flaunted.
The warmth of the day is imperfect again.
Wind drains through the blank air,
Every place where I go enables more wonder,
But Nature herself is a limited curiosity to me
LXXIV.
The weather is lovely and sweet.
It holds out its light from heaven
That we might use its vividness
Not to have to rush again
Out of its own beauty and fall
Into any void.
Any daisy looks like a good subject
To watch over with a childlike wonder
Before the sunset reflects on the sand
Which too claims to win more for my pleasure.
However, a word cannot turn the sky into a heaven,
It only passes over the garden and lawn and not upward;
And my heart would use the sunlight for these things
To power me up to another sky
From another word if only it could.
- Bertha
LXXV.
We rarely need the knowledge
Of how love works to love: Take the child.
Is the child selfish and free
To cry for more love? Are we?
A poem meets with its end.
Could it but turn away pain for happiness
To some who hear, who feel the matter
For a fair hope to come from far for them!
I have used many years to wander,
Light yields a little to more darkness,
Despair would ruin enough of me,
But I am still free to hope for the best.
- Elaine
LXXVI.
Feet claim the sand,
One sits on the ocean floor
And sleeps returning to one's splendors.
The brilliant afternoon is a tale.
A writer places down the pen to make letters
LXXVII.
Your weeping shows the throng you care,
It rolls me off the day,
And gets no poppy for sleep,
The soul is not as soft, free and clear.
The soul loves awesomeness,
I think it craves not to break,
Peace makes ado of the poppy,
Some wine lurks for the play.
Money lies in a knock,
In periods, the day is to follow,
I rest ado with the Universe
To face the wine and a show.
- Thrikbot
LXXVIII.
The pumpkin wishes to talk to the flowers,
But wisdom betrays its nature.
Like it, years themselves idle beyond reality,
And the light swishes across the landscape.
Lightning faces the skies,
It is the spark of the wisdom of Nature,
And drains the airy skies from questions,
Questions that come falling into ugliness.
As clouds model the golden skies,
I drink with happiness their reign,
And smile because they are curious and free.
Many of them steal away my golden happiness.
- Yafah
LXXIX.
The garden opens to the day,
I face its wild world
And follow the wind from bloom to bloom,
The day is good for things.
Whispers ring around me in that place.
The world is built out of wood,
LXXX.
The morning is annihilated by the day,
Its shine ruins the reflective underworld
Where darkness lies compounded with fears,
A dark beauty lands at its gates.
I face my eternal pleasance
Which cannot drain away a beam,
Tomorrow hides from the victory
That places me above, a new Angel.
Tomorrow brings the life,
What is dim turns to day,
And enough is not enough of paradise
While every day reigns in silence.
- Bertha
LXXXI.
Land clears the fragile from the Earth,
Clouds sport icy tops,
A simple man uses his kindness
To go far like them to hear of myths.
In the present time there is a sun above,
It sits blessed and old,
It looks peacefully over the land
While that man reads a loved poem.
Trusting brings more kindness with it,
A little rest helps to make us simple,
The new day turns old
As it is lulled into night by those noble myths.
- Arielle