Crushed Lips. Colour me in every eye. I meet your question.
My metal fingers melt into the cracks of your palm.
Connecting the air of the skin, to the flesh, to the bones, and what fills the space in between.
What exists in this vivid, yet completely still moment is in every footstep I touch,
and leave behind.
Dark, Light, Vertical, Horizontal & Round In Time.
Wieght pushes weightless.
I am in every past and every future.
I bleed for the earth.
A braided past – as a torch to an invitation to fight for what you know. You can already do.
Gently I walk by your side and we get to a destination.
As a place a seed in your hand for you
to n a m e.
U N N M D
Related Blogposts
and so enter into a strain of elderflowers crystals dropping from above blossoming off the minds and fingertips behind the gate a love blossoming off fingertips familiar eyes once discovered a resting earth waiting for a moment to strike the sun sets into a night a gentle fever never-ending spirits…
The initiation with the Sisters Hope was the homecoming, the deep celestial memory, the confirmation of the path. Nothing is the same now. The skin has mutated, the eyes have returned to the heart. My research was and always has been connected to this poetic reality. Immense channeling, efficient research.…