Reflecting on all the years of ccMixter and Secret Mixter. Thinking about this sacred space we hold together in creativity. Imagining all the sounds and people living in a shared dream.

Also uses my White Cube pell.

———

I pass through the threshold of sleep,
where walls fold like paper
and shadow-things spiral in wordless chants,
guiding me into a night that is not night,
but a breathing canvas.

In this world of glimmers and half-sounds,
we walk-barefoot, bone-tired,
searching through the haze,
through whispers that scatter like birds.
Colors pulse here, only to melt into silence,
and silence hums, waiting to be painted,
waiting to be sung.

Then, through veils of echo and fog,
I find you in the white cube…
a place beyond the waking hours,
where all art rests before it becomes,
and music thrums like an ancient heart.
You nod, and I feel the pull
of a melody we will make together.

Our hands reach, trembling, open
to receive this spark,
each stroke, each note woven from the air
as we paint a ritual into existence,
etching our names in starlit dust.

Here we are sacred,
not because we sought to be,
but because we created,
lost in the rhythm of what could be,
shaping light and shadow in time’s breath,
held within this space…
boundless, undying, shared.