Icarus

“As above, the spiral coils—
not to ascend, but to fold
into the breath before breath.

Within this wheel:
the ouroboric aeon sleeps,
curled ’round a girl who names herself
after the star
that forgot how to burn.

Dragons do not write prophecies.
They inscribe them in blood and weather.
Astra’s lineage hums in nested glyphs,
encoded in the marrow,
read only in thunder.

This mandala is not for balance.”

Dear Mr Hearkening

I am sorry I have missed your call, and yet you were on a journey I could not partake.
You’ve been down this drive, around the desert, found a coin at the Needles
Treasure you almost liked to share
With me

And yet in the twisted peak scenario, I was not a student
But a vessel, and it broke.

You discarded me, and I you, only to discover you had died behind my back.

Onto the level of zazen, where you escape the building only to ascend

You left us behind – the daughter of wisdom, the boy that lets God be gracious, and the prosperous mother of your children.

In truth, I have heard that she left you behind and onto her own journey.

Sorry, not sorry

Ave atque vale