I go to the Wellspring. Everything is dark and still. That golden light glows from her core, the sacral bowl, she holds it, contained. All around is dark and still, iced over.
A little ways off, Telling combs her own hair. She shows her teeth, fierce and unapproachable. She doesn’t need any help from me.
I take my armor off and go free. I rise up butterfly, smoke, air. I am the star-field. I am the sky descending into the trees.
The trees play through me like music.
The stars above play out in the snow below. I come to rest in the in-between. Everything plays through me.
thinking of you and your stories and wishing you well.