The day after the night John
Lennon died I became an American
citizen. Needless to say it was gloomy
and blue; blue, dark blue that felt like gray,
not only because it was raining heavily all
the time. Obviously the sun had a good
reason not to step out that day.

The day after the night
John Lennon died
I became an American citizen.
The gate that was meant to be
opening up when I said I Do
to a new constitution, turned
into heavy metal

gates closing rapidly on the
Dakota building, right next door
to where I have just nested my
newly fledged Salamandra
studio – a dream space, an inter-art
arena with a vigil and a veil of
flowers, tears and broken glass.
It really felt like walking on thin
thin ice, for quite a while since that
day after the night John
Lennon died, the dream that died
with the man who said I HAVE A
DREAM died once more and what
has remained is a REMEMBRANCE and
a KEY to open up the sky with a musical
note. Longing for the sublime
while toning a common bond in
sound: Let us sing All together
now, all together now…
The day after the night John Lennon died,
the dream I drew with large and minute
strokes on the sails of my tugboat, was
blown to the winds of wisdom and
compassion; like the flock of white balloons Yoko let go,
let hovering over Strawberry Fields
ever since, forever the Imagine mandala
to be a medicine wheel, within
a will, to be rising in love all over again
one more time. All together now…

December 9, 1991, New York City

Imagine Peace Tower
Imagine John and Yoko united 4ever in a double flame dance

Imagine peace
a tower reaching high
to touch the sky with
spearheads of light Looking up
and below to see the glow of infinite
love. Remembrance reflected
in peaceful water. As above
so below. Light
and shadow, spiraling up and down
to be a tower of light, a sound pipe
for prayers; ocean waves singing
longing, rocking love hidden
in the hearts of frozen
crystals. Listen
water speaks

I love you

Carmela Tal Baron

Thank you Yoko Ono

I love you too

May peace prevail on earth.