every ritual has a fuzzy motoring inside a kind of Spring evening that unfurls You
ingénue and knave in dew and pollen velvet-whispers sent, lent between things unseen
and believed retrieving every cellular divinity key we could find with honest pleas ...
we belly crawled the Northwest door, pine needles sticking to our skin
we went in the sacred womb circle and watched the lightning in the distance
it beckoned and bellowed us further into why imbalance tempests time
we were hermetic hierophantic siphon thieves, we were responsible archers
far from farthing frantic frolicked pan licked
we were near sweet babies on wings
we grew slews of new tissues
covered all our flesh, each and every Life
we were lyn lifshin raw and ready
each throne of bones taking hold of our souls
we dirty palmed our intentions, we mentioned being
bent shunning nothing(s), we were fluffing our organs
listening for our reflections, within a ring of cedar trees
we were pumping seasons, rode seed kites, cycling bold
we smoothly tightened folded afterglows into our blood ...
all of which
we gave willingly
with Love
knowing nothing
defining even less
EJR ©
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