A poem to the living world.
A poem about a weathered will harboring a buoyant soul.
Wandering in the liminal spaces, walking between worlds, we meet her. She is the womb of all life, the essence of mystery, the resting place of souls…she is the soul of deep shadow and the wellspring of inspiration…effortless, inexhaustible, not to be feared, but cherished.
A poem in admiration of our world.
Tension is the nature of diversity, and diversity is beautiful, whether it resonates of harmony or dissonance…but harmony is only possible after there has been a parting, and dissonance, the agony of desire, only intensifies as resolve nears, yearns until unison is found. Songs are born of them.
A few words of poetry in admiration of our beautiful and generous world.
Of all directions, North is youngest; of all lands was North raised last: pole-clinging, mountain-bracing, glacier-bearing, winter-blasting, storm-wielding, darkness lair. Of all lands was North the best.