A bard of the stars,

a Dionysian adept of the game of masks,

marked by lightning

he stepped down among us,

a very multitude he was.


Major Tom, Ziggy Stardust, The Thin White Duke….He saved lives. He saved mine.


He sang: You’ve got your mother in a whirl
She’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl
Hey babe, your hair’s alright
Hey babe, let’s go out tonight
You like me, and I like it all
We like dancing and we look divine

And it was all all right in the starshine of the renewed night.


And then with the shock of the death, the detonation of Blackstar. The Black Sun. The Sun Behind the Sun. Hovering over The City of the Dead, where an Otherworld woman, part animal wanders, black and white boy musicians seethe (seidhr?) and Bowie’s eyes bandaged/covered are topped with a seer’s artificial eyes. I’ve only watched once, there will be many more.







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