Inverted hermit

Hole in time, like a well
Clay
Bricks swollen with memory
Diving deep into long churning oceans of night ink

And speak your peace
By standing softly
And letting time swill together in collected tidal pools - in the recessing draw of the ever-black


Bourne a-mast to the windly observance there

A day In the cave without echoes

A truce with time and decay

Open weeping
In front of Her audience

To have lots of wants
But have your needs met

If ignorance is bliss,
Then omnipotence must be agony.

But the more I know about you,
The less, I can breathe .


I yet breathe

Fighting to stay alive .

Respected ancestors
Thank you for surviving
Such that we may survive

As we yet survive.

Though some of us, in some form of stasis or another,

The breath may still come to the lungs
And words to the lips-

Even if few

These may be spoken
To say
Unto the graffiti of time,

I am here.





For now, I am here.
Rocking horse .
World stoneling.

Breath-maker and
True.

As time passes
It grows
You, too, must grow with it/
Or be left behind.
If left behind, you live in the past.
If living in the past, you cannot live in the present.
If not living in the present, you are lost to this world.

If you are lost, you can return,
Simply by wanting too.

The strongest spells we weave are cast on ourselves.
The Power is to walk through them, into the air of now.
Never forgetful, but always free.

Steering passage
Through the sand.