I hold out my hand. The Ferryman is right there, reaching for me, the tips of our fingers graze. The pulse of connection is deep and settling. We are united, shoulder to shoulder.

The circle, all around me, the circle is alive with power, bright and flowing and charged. I am not afraid anymore. I stand within the circle and feel the lift of it. Life support. Vital. Pulsing. I am not afraid. I am not outcast. I am not separate. I am of it.

The Ferryman stands beside me. We carry each other.


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2 Responses to encircled

  1. Paula says:

    Oh my. These dreams and writings touch me in a place beyond words, and yet I am compelled to leave a comment … a tiny token of thanks for capturing their essence so beautifully. I feel entirely embraced in this circle of spirited sustenance—as if my heart were wearing a swirling skirt of grace and gratitude. Thank you!

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