A Three-Minute Operetta for the Fire Horse Coast

(Scene: Noosa. Half-moon. The tide breathes in three-quarter time. You stand at the edge where the Pacific becomes Zohar, where the Fire Horse’s hoofprints still smolder in the sand.)

THE WHISPER — 0:00-0:30

They said Mara left him.
They lied.
She only traded her thousand arms
for tendu,
her demon horns for a chignon tight as karma.

Watch her now—
pirouetting on the mandala’s edge,
crushing the stupa beneath her pointe shoe,
collapse of the ancients underfoot like dry lotus pods.
The Buddha sat for forty-nine days?
She spins for eternity.

And when the dust settles—
ah—the dust is gold.

THE RAIN CHECK — 0:30-2:15
(Voice rising, rhythmic, waves keeping time)

You ask for a rain check at the gates of everlasting faith?
Take it.
Scribbled in salt on the back of a gull’s wing.
Valid for one resurrection or three minutes,
whichever collapses first.

Is there more to light than one candle?
No.
There are seven thousand,
and they are all the same wick
seen through the prism of Leilah’s tear.

One for each sentient being drowning in the half-light between horizons—
where the farthest star is the closest heartbeat,
where Noosa’s shore is the shore of your own aorta.
(Faster now, drumming fingers on thigh)

I offer you the Fire Horse’s mane—
a torch that eats itself to give light!
I offer you the ballerina’s collapse—
Mara didn’t tempt him to stop,
she tempted him to dance!

And when he refused the music,
she became the music.
His love. His kindred.
The restriction that liberates.

Three minutes to alleviate all suffering?
Impossible.
But the impossible is merely the rain check
cashed at the bank of the Unmanifest.

Give me your suffering.
(Take it.)

Give me your breath.
(Take it.)

I will hold it like a cloud holds water—
full of grace,
white with potential,
heavy with the mercy that falls as storm.
Beyond Buddhahood?
Yes.

Where the ballerina’s shadow is longer than the temple,
where the rescue operation is reversed—
we are not saving the gods;
the gods are rappelling down the cliffs of our ribs
to retrieve what we forgot we buried.

THE DRUM — 2:15-3:00
(Voice drops to surf-whisper)

One candle?
Seven?
Count them:
Thump—the heart.
Thump—the wave.
Thump—the hoof of the Horse extinguished in foam.

Mara spins.
The horizon blurs.
What was far—her arms—
is now close,
a necklace of skulls and Attilio pearls
warm against your throat.

The rain check is stamped.
Paid in full.

The suffering alleviated,
the three minutes eternal,
the sun on the Sunshine Coast
a single flame
reflected
in seven billion eyes.

(Silence. Just the tide.)

She is still dancing.

(Sky is, the curtain.)

---

The feral shadow pharaoh cat licks her divine paw compassionately, then smiles in satisfaction to herself, "Mijaouw!", comes out, (I think it is), "May all sentient beings be freed of garlic"

the raincheck argument:
Koncentracijsko taborišče Ljubelj 1943-1945
Koncentracijsko taborišče Ljubelj, zunanja enota uničevalnega koncentracijskega taborišča Mauthausen, je med letoma 1943 in 1945 delovalo tik ob današnji slovensko-avstrijski meji. V njem so nacisti izkoriščali zapornike za gradnjo predora skozi Karavanke – strateške povezave med tretjim rajhom in jugovzhodnim frontnim območjem.
Nacistični načrt je predvideval izboljšanje infrastrukturne povezave nacistične Nemčije z jadranskim prostorom. Ljubeljski prelaz je bil ovira na strateški cesti, Reichstrasse 333, zato so odredili gradnjo ljubeljskega cestnega predora s pomočjo suženjskega dela internirancev in dela civilnih delavcev.

Vanitas or, The Vow of the Shade and the Wolf-Pack to the Pale Pearl Queen

For you, I cry my sorrow howls
Into the hollow night—the voice of void.
I am but shade; the midnight wolves convene,
Naked by moonlight, rainbow-skinned, deployed.

We hunt the blood-thirsty hunt for life,
For jewels that pulse with resurrected breath;
From souls once dead we carved the precious stones,
Now living in our love, defying death.

A monumental vow we scratch in bone—
To Leilah, Pale Pearl Queen of shadow’s art,
Attilio’s dark vanitas adorns your throat:
Gold skulls, black pearls, bewitching counterpart.

Your fur, vanitas, glamorous with doom,
Electrified against the tomb’s dark bloom;
Oh Pharaoh’s sister, feral shadow cat,
Your observant eye breaks open my skin’s room.

For your necklaces divine we tore the souls
From quiet graves to serve your dark controls—
I am but memento vivere,
Remember living, while the wolf-pack howls.

Here, my feral shadow cat, my love, to pharaoh,
we are, but home, so lost to daylight, lost to bloom;
we breath, the sorrowful delight of blood red dawn,
our shades, in shapes of watchful iris, pray to none
that came, thus might have lived, but died, alone.

"Če moram izbirati med pustom ali valentinom, ni dileme😀😀😀", Katja J. B.

Votlost in votlina
Ognja ni
in prebivalci starodavne jame
so pozabili
kako se kresne iskro,
ali kako se učiti od strašnega medveda.
Zvezde so še vedno tam.
Svetlobnih let pa ni.
Svetlobna leta stran
življenje v preteklosti.
Doma ste;
pri kaminu, ki ne gori,
le modro obseva vsakega obraz, posebej
v manjših krčih, tumor na prebavilih,
možganska kap, pritisk v žilah,
kemoterapija in obsevanje na obroke:
»kdaj ti bo dovolj?«
ne vem, ne morem vedeti, ne vidim ven
»mesečnih obrokov, stroškov, lakote otrok?«
ne čutim žeje. lačen sem. ne slišim dobro.
»s strastmi, skritimi v parafin«
ne vidim. slepe so, oči. tema je. dneva ni.
»da te ubije?«
Preden bi umreti mogel,
naj bo živ! Ta stvor?

"What happened in 4724?,"
asked the cat and
"Miaow?"
( 1:1 | a s h a d o w i n t h e m a k i n g )
While, the End is near, Skin feels
its Cold breath is Nigh, its Freeze,
Diamond sharp, soft tongues and
the Sound, of Silence.
Take breath! Grasp in!
Don't stop! Relieve!
Scream! Scream! Scream is all!
For A(r)ges you have been but deep, asleep,
now awaken? into the light, you grasp
for 'The Cradling', to begin:
Love! Love! Love is all!
For every House of all 12 Houses
in this Wor(l)d, of each: 10 Windows, 7 Doors,
All painted over with that Blood Red Cross to:
Stop! Don't move! Freeze! in panic, grief,
hate and fear!
You not, my dear?
Make love, not war?
A dagger on the throat?
Make love, not war?
A spear onto the heart?
Make love, not war?
For ages you have been but deep, asleep,
now awaken? into the light, you grasp
for 'The Cradling', to begin:

Love! Love! Make love, not war?

'The Cradling' Session is yet, to begin, wherein the 8% of the first day in 4724!
“We must learn not to cry, not to snatch, not to demand. We must sit still, speak softly, say things we don’t mean, refrain from saying those we do. We must eat food we don’t like—even if we do like it we must eat it in a socially prescribed way. We must wear irritating clothes, pretend interests we do not have, conceal our boredom, mask our joy, restrain our anger, sorrow or fear.”
"Miaouw!" replied the shadow cat and turned medusa back from stone!

When my baby loves me, when my baby hugs me
When my baby holds me tight
Man, I'm in level and I'm in heaven
When my baby loves me right
Well, she's not short, brother, she's not tall
'Cause man, she's just about right
Oh, she's my rock boppin' baby
And I don't mean maybe
She'll do it up right tonight
Well, my rock boppin' baby
You oughta see her shakin'
Well, my rock boppin' baby's got tricks
Well, you oughta see her rock
She don't move in one spot
But she bops all over the place
When we go out for a night on the town
We don't ever fool around
When we start boppin', all the other cats stop
And they just start standin' around
When we get goin' it ain't no slowin'
And we just have a ball
I'm puttin' you wise, my baby ain't got eyes ..

Heimat ist, wo es auf nur einer Straße schneit.
Es hat viel geschneit erst kürzlich—wenn nicht heute—
und seit 1995, als die Zeit stillstand
und ihr Raum gab, neu zu erscheinen,
wie Schnee es kann, obwohl so alt wie das Alter ist sie,
wenn sie noch weint.

Das Pflaster zu lecken soll Nationalsport werden.

ENG: Street-Licking
(Sub: Home on One Street)
Home is where it snows on just one street.
It has snowed a lot just recently—if not today—
and since 1995, when time stood still
and gave it space to appear anew,
as snow can, though old as age it is,
when it still weeps.

Licking the very street shall become a national sport.

SI: Cestoliz
(Podnaslov: Doma na jenoj cesti)
Doma je, kjer na samo jenoj cesti snežij.
Viel' je nasnežilo, če z'aj —če ne kr' dans—
in od dev'tnajsto pet'n-devet-deset, ko je čas obštou
in jej dau platz, vr novo se pr'kazat,
kakor snehk zna, čeprou ta stara je, ku cajt,
kedar je jokava;
Tisto cesto lizat narodni bo šport postou.

Acts of dissent

may we 'Like' this, thus, as so far as 'Like' can get, or may, we 'Like' it as twice as much ass much thus 'Like' ass it can 'Likely' get, it by far (right) nor left as far as ain't as 'Like' as a Facek cigarette 🙂 You have a 'Likehter'? Herr Mann Likehter? "Hermann?", oh, that fellow 'Like'? Der oberleutnant? Oberliker? 'Like' it as much 'Likely' it gets, "Just one like away", she said, my feral shadow cat and scratched this 'Like' and Face. Facek much der Schnekke?

She left it there. Not sitting in the dark. Scratched. Turned left in shade but right, alright, in daylight.

( No self-records | Series Mycelium Contemporanea Leviathanum )

While the search and rescue operation
might, to a degree, revive and thus replenish
all those years, the time, all lost to deep blue oceans,
deep blue space, to darkest bellies of ferocious beasts
who drank from cups that no one dared to drink—
for those gods, may they feast on earth and shake the
skies, with thunder storms the sea saws all violins and flutes
from loving lips, their drips and drops reviving seasons.

In the nonchalance of cups the endless pouring,
dripping, dropping, drumming, their enduring
under thundering feet,
the mycelic flowers
come to spring.

Put it on repeat!
Put it on repeat!!
Put it on repeat!!?
"I shall," replied the feral shadow cat, "I will."
"but only once, indeed."

// Then she turned and went onto her very specially ordained search and rescue operation hunt for those earth gods that have been yet unseen to bow. Will bow! Once bow! What a show!

Happy B day to one-and-only Romano Crivici!
Thanks Linsey Pollak & Jessica Ainsworth
( happy B day to-you-too! )

---

The mountain's grace, beneath the fire's sheen,
Adorns the spirit, in a vibrant scene.
Though beauty shines, grasp not its fleeting hold,
For forms dissolve, as Bardo's truths unfold.

// By these, series of all embracing, deeply convulsive moments can take you by their full force mightily embracing earths of any kind, as this earth, and by that steep, and slightly slippery tunnel of all imaginable kindness of the being giving birth and being birthed away from the primordial ocean, of the mist, of the heaviest rock, of the ancient stone, by the oil, and blood, and water turned to wine, through birth after birth after birth after birth - in that exactly, is the ancient cradling.

"How lovely. Mur-murr," mur-murred the feral shadow cat, " It's eyes, oh see, are mineee. And I offered of them, same, to dogs, to lizards, to all the bees and all the fishes, all the birds and beasts. Mjaouw. I, emmm, could continue pur-pouring like this? Would you mind? I beeelieve its fineee."

// The light plays across its contours, creating illusions of exquisite, transient beauty – shimmering robes, jeweled ornaments, divine faces. These adornments are beautiful but clearly ephemeral, dissolving into pure light around the edges, echoing the illusory nature of forms in the Bardo.

Next up: Ti i Ja - Ich und Du

"All actual life is encounter" | "All actual life is a Shopenhauer."

"When you set out to find the human being, leave your categories at the door. Do not look for an essence to dissect or a quality to define. Instead, risk the fragile, holy act of meeting. For the human being does not reside in the solitary self, but lives in the trembling, living space that opens up between you and another. All real living is in this encounter."

"Alles wirkliche Leben ist Begegnung."

Martin Buber, I and Thou (Ich und Du), 1923

The Earth now holds, the lake's deep, fertile store,
A gathering force, that yearns for something more.
The human flock, in sterile halls confined,
A collective dream, for freedom of the mind.

Hearken, O seeker, to the Voice of the Void,
From Pangu's breath, and Nuwa's tears employed.
The Year of Fire Horse, four-seven-two-four,
Ignites the ancient spark, and opens wide the door.

From timeless mists, where first all things did stir,
The whispers rise, to banish ancient blur.
Sixty-four gates, in rhythm now unfold,
A primal song, by elder gods foretold.

WH4T H4PP3N3D 1N 4724?

A vast, underground city of the future, depicted with sterile, gleaming white corridors and identical, emotionless human figures (THX 4724's society) moving in synchronized patterns. Above them, unseen, Nuwa's fertile earth holds the potential for rebellion. The feral cat, its golden eyes now narrowed in disdain, observes the uniformity, sensing the dormant, collective desire for something beyond the controlled existence.

"Miaouw!"

"What happened in 4724?,"
asked the cat and
"Miaow?"

( 1:1 | s h a d o w i n t h e m a k i n g )

While, the End is near, Skin feels
its Cold breath is Nigh, its Freeze,
Diamond sharp, soft tongues and
the Sound, of Silence.
Take breath! Grasp in!
Don't stop! Relieve!
Scream! Scream! Scream is all!
For A(r)ges you have been but deep, asleep,
now awaken? into the light, you grasp
for 'The Cradling', to begin:
Love! Love! Love is all!
For every House of all 12 Houses
in this Wor(l)d, of each: 10 Windows, 7 Doors,
All painted over with that Blood Red Cross to:
Stop! Don't move! Freeze! in panic, grief,
hate and fear!
You not, my dear?
Make love, not war?
A dagger on the throat?
Make love, not war?
A spear onto the heart?
Make love, not war?
For ages you have been but deep, asleep,
now awaken? into the light, you grasp
for 'The Cradling', to begin:

Love! Love! Make love, not war?

'The Cradling' Session is yet, to begin, wherein the 8% of the first day in 4724!

“We must learn not to cry, not to snatch, not to demand. We must sit still, speak softly, say things we don’t mean, refrain from saying those we do. We must eat food we don’t like—even if we do like it we must eat it in a socially prescribed way. We must wear irritating clothes, pretend interests we do not have, conceal our boredom, mask our joy, restrain our anger, sorrow or fear.”

"Miaouw!" replied the shadow cat and turned medusa back from stone!

The feral is, the darkest of the dark (k)night cat(s),
her eyes, pure ancient gold, delight in merciless compassion
but silence as in a darkest tomb, the endless is,
the presence in her soul;
"And why not? Why not!? Why not!!!???"
She said: "Pur-pur, hmm - Why?", murmured away in same sway:
"MAY 'WHY' BE DAMNED!!! May why be food for Dog(s)!!!!"
In her ferallness, indeed, one may but understand, comprehend,
the feral dark (k)night(s) cat, so swayed away, and for her ferallness
say 'Not!', nor whisper it, deep praise and contemplation
All goes to ( p h a r a o n e s s )
❤ ❤ ❤

A rare meeting of voices brings three powerful solo female artists together for the first time. Jeunae Elita, Ruby Stone and Ofa Fanaika invite you into an intimate Songwriters Circle in the Green Room at Mapleton Public House.

Rooted in story, connection and shared presence, this one-night-only event features original songs, heartfelt reflections and exquisite, unguarded harmonies. Seated together on stage, the artists will each offer solo songs before gently weaving their voices through one another’s work — creating moments of collaboration, resonance and quiet magic.

Ofa Fanaika’s warm, soul-inflected songwriting carries echoes of Pacific heritage, lived experience and community storytelling. Joined by the tender lyricism and emotional clarity of Jeunae Elita and the raw, grounded soulful sensitivity of Ruby Stone, the night unfolds as a conversation — between songs, between artists, and with the room itself.

Ruby Stone breathes fresh life into soul, with just the right blend of grit, sass and heartfelt honesty. At the keys, Ruby creates music that feels like an open conversation — raw, tender, and deeply human. Her songs trace stories of love, loss, and hope, each one carried by a voice that can ache with vulnerability one moment and soar with power the next. Ruby's sound sits comfortably between classic soul and contemporary storytelling, with melodies that linger long after the final chord.

This is not a background-music evening. It’s an invitation to slow down, listen deeply, and share space with music that is honest, human and alive.

Warm, soulful and deeply felt — a one-off gathering in one of the Sunshine Coast’s most beloved listening rooms.

Meet the artists:

RUBY STONE breathes fresh life into soul, with just the right blend of grit, sass and heartfelt honesty. Grounded in intimate, heartfelt keys and soulful vocals, she creates a warm, downtempo sound that feels timeless and deeply human. Whether seated at the piano or leading a room with her voice, Ruby makes music that feels like an open conversation — raw, tender, and beautifully unguarded. Her songs trace stories of love, loss, and hope, each one carried by a voice that can ache with vulnerability one moment and soar with power the next.

Ruby’s performances are intimate and captivating, drawing listeners into the emotional world she creates on stage. There’s a confidence in the way she plays and sings — a sense that every word has been lived, every note felt. Her sound sits comfortably between classic soul and contemporary storytelling, with melodies that linger long after the final chord, leaving the room a little softer and a little closer than before.

JEUNAE ELITA is a vocalist, and multidisciplinary artist/researcher with a practice that intersects music, deep ecology, more-than-human entanglements, and esortericism. Jeunae is a queerer of musical boundaries and will ease-fully dip between Hildegard-esque melodies, jazz, soul, folk and various world music traditions. Exploring voice as a vital technology, before and beyond words, and through the use of live affected vocals through a range of electronics and pedals, Jeunae invites audiences into a world of liminality and feeling.

As a passionate voice and music educator, facilitator, and choir leader, Jeunae champions an understanding that all humans are inherently musical, and that singing and music, until quite recently, has always been at the centre of all cultural and social life. Her research investigates voice as a means of listening-with and vocalising-back to the world. Jeunae has performed nationally and internationally across concert stages, art festivals, and residencies.

OFA FANAIKA is a Brisbane-based musician, songwriter and community arts practitioner whose work has helped foster creative communities across Australia through decades of touring, collaboration and independent music-making. Now based in Woolloongabba, she remains closely connected to the inner-city creative culture of West End, where she spent over twenty years performing, hosting events and building artistic networks that continue to shape her work.

A queer woman of Tongan heritage, Ofa’s practice centres on cultural visibility, storytelling and advocacy for diverse identities within schools and multicultural communities. Alongside her music career, she works as a music tutor at Albert Park Flexible Learning Centre and Inala Flexible School, supporting young people to develop creative voice and confidence through music.

Best known for her work with Chocolate Strings and Captain Dreamboat, as well as her solo project OFA, she has performed extensively across Australia, New Zealand and the Pacific. Her music blends soul, folk and blues influences, delivered through a distinctive, expressive voice and a percussive guitar style grounded in honesty, connection and shared human experience.

MADRE SONO MUERTA'
( f o r t h e u n d i s c l o s e d )
Hanged by a Violin it went, around, the Wor(l)d; All's Spinnin'!
Hanged by a violin it was, the Wor(l)d, from the beginning,
and from the very start, it was, from beginning - hanged!
was the Wor(l)d, hanged by a violin, hanged by the very String.

All's Spinnin'!
??? Thus nothingness itself came about, to be - aware ???
!!! Not yet. Not now. Not then. Not here. Not there. Not anywhere !!!
Except for the feral cat, all mine as night belongs, as she did not but flinch
of her sharp claw, and clearly cut that very String, precisely, surgically, profanely,
and for its Sound, all hell-let-loose ( it felt, to me ) like: the sound of that very All!;
All's Spinnin'!
But for the very dark night feral cat,
but a small deed, nothing in between,
nor here nor anywhere, nor now nor anytime at All: All Spinnin'!
she mused and slightly hissed and waved her sneaky tail good night
thus turned around and left me, all alone in here and now;
while in her new embroidery and in her very new, infinite Hat:
Singin' Soul, a Life, new dawn - a lullaby: All's Spinnin'!

T ' MA ( RA! )

Verse 37: Jia Ren (家人) – The Family (The Clan)

<!-- of the stubborn night it is, my feral cat, half light, the other half tomorrow night, to'night. -->

The fire within, beneath the wind's embrace,Forges a bond, in this creative space.A primal family, from their passion born,Observed by eyes, of ancient, golden scorn.

// A small, intimate cluster of early, humanoid figures (the first "family" or clan) huddled around a flickering, central campfire (Pangu's contained fire). A gentle, nurturing wind (Nuwa's breath) sweeps around them, providing comfort. Just beyond the circle of light, partially concealed in the shadows, the feral cat sits, its golden eyes watching with a detached, almost disdainful wisdom, observing the nascent societal bonds forming.

T ' MA ( RA )

While she has been but a stubborn girl of the night, my feral cat, and did not come to speak a word with my expectant ear (nor left nor right) I must confess that the patience brought myself down to stubborn thinking, whether shall I pierce that ear or shall I just anticipate the piercing, but only if it is done by her feral stubborn fang. A stubborn feral can, when it finally finds its home, remains a stubborn feral cat. I ❤ that.

"From a relentless refusal to settle, Trma is a brand that gives stubbornness the credit it deserves."
~ just when I'm looking for a hoodie, a hoodie becomes a stubborn brand with all the attention it deserves.
❤ = a stubborn feral cat, when it finds its home 🙂

Quick was, but her answer, from the night itself she sent her revealing thoughts and her sweet love, best wishes for the day, thus lost in words, by the words and between her very serious legs.
"Reading between the words," she said, "is like reading between my legs ~ and you better learn it!" 🙂
( all this while he's a Merman she's a Mermaid.)
"Jeeeesuuuus!," she then murmured for long, not too loud and not too gentle: "Jeeesus! Jeesus is a transgender!"
( to be continued, murmuring out loud )

Observability of another sabbatical scale:

MATER SUSPIRIA VISION

Seduction of the Armageddon Witches

Location: Glasshouse Mountains, Queensland, Australia
Latitude: 26.90° S Longitude: 152.92° E

Time Zone: Australian Eastern Standard Time (AEST, UTC+10)

Event: New Moon + Annular Solar Eclipse
Date: February 17, 2026

Time (AEST): 10:03 PM (22:03) Time (UTC): 12:03

Ephemeris for Glasshouse Mountains — February 17, 2026, 22:03 AEST
Solar altitude −42.3° (below horizon) Calculated from time/location
Lunar altitude −42.3° (conjunct Sun) Identical to Sun at new moon
Solar azimuth 287.9° (west-northwest) Calculated
Lunar azimuth 287.9° Conjunction
Moon phase 0.0% illuminated New moon
Distance from Earth 384,493 km
Apparent declination −13° 34' — Greenwich; adjusted
Declination (Glasshouse) −13° 49' (approx.) Parallax-adjusted estimate
Right Ascension 22h 03m
Ecliptic latitude ~ +0.5° to +0.8° N Inferred — annular eclipse requires moon near ascending node
Ecliptic longitude 328° (Aquarius 28°) Derived from RA/solar position
Constellation Aquarius

Lunar node Near ascending node Confirmed by annular eclipse occurrence

Alignment with the Ecliptic
Is the Moon on the ecliptic? Very close. Annular solar eclipses occur only when the Moon is within ~0.5° of the ecliptic at new moon.
Which side? North of the ecliptic. The ascending node is in early Pisces; the Moon at 328° longitude is just before the node.

Ecliptic latitude? Approximately +0.5° to +0.8°. Not explicitly given in results, but required for annularity.

Limitations of This Ephemeris
Declination Greenwich value (−13°34') is close but not exact for Glasshouse. Parallax shifts declination slightly southward.
Ecliptic latitude Not provided in search results. Value is inferred from eclipse geometry, not directly quoted.
Altitude/azimuth Calculated, not from live ephemeris. Accurate to within ~0.5°.

Visibility Tables for Glasshouse area are still empty in public databases

Summary
New moon date/time Feb 17, 2026, 10:03 PM AEST
Visible? ❌ No — below horizon, daylight hours only
Constellation Aquarius
Declination (approx.) −13° 49'
Ecliptic latitude ~ +0.5° to +0.8° N
Ecliptic longitude 328°
Path Follows Sun's arc; rises ESE, sets WSW

Eclipse Annular; not visible from Queensland