Into the ruins

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There is no doubt

You were already the muse

Long before I crossed the seas

To step on your shore.

Headless, formless

Voice in a bottle

You stepped on mine,

Leaving footsteps

Deep in sun-drenched sand.

This is our land.

Ruined, broken

Civilizations lost and found.

We built this world

On whispering trees

And mountain Gods.

The Goddess cries,

Dive deep

Into the ruins.

I dive.

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Be careful what you ask for

On the eve of the new year I climbed the sacred mountain with twenty pilgrims. In silence. We circled the tors, sentinel stones, weathered, mute, belonging to no-one but their Mother Earth. The mountain gods wailed, whipped at flesh, sucked the last heat from bones and threw thoughts to the sea. I waited. The ants, far below, rolled rock. It’s time, they railed, you know you can move your own ground. I swallowed my silence. Love, abundance, non-attachment. The words fell at my feet, flew to the sky.

Wilding the Heart

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The mountain gods know it is time. Hush they say, listen to your heartbeat. Be ready for anything, sing the goddesses, we are here for you.  Somewhere between light of dawn and glow of dusk lies the present.  The forest beckons. Wild yourself whispers the bleached bones on my path. A feather falls, ever so lightly. I shiver in anticipation.