R.R.I.P.M.B.

Something happened on the day he died. Spirit rose a metre and stepped aside. Somebody else took his place, and bravely cried. That place we hide deep down inside the darkest confines of our subconscious mind just may be intertwined with the superconscious or divine. I bet Bowie's soul's agreeing with that line more or less at this time. Let us remind ourselves to rewind the inner-hell to the chapter before that spell was cast, when all characters comprising this curious cosmic cast reveled in the inner-shelf of pure creative fun and formless, absolute Self. May Bowie's soul channel through these words that are wrote on this map aboard our boat afloat on the cosmic ocean of no-sin, just all-knowin' and absolute justice, omniscience and omnibenevolence, eternal return and primordial elegance. Let us keep rowing, and rest/rejoice in peace, Master Bowie.