all is always held under the neath. all the gold. the knowledge. the seed. the cities. the bones. the ever after. the blue prints, the original water, the fire, the currents, the star dust. all of it in utero. in her. bounty.
Harness the power of who you are. Roots Grow from limbs here, over our heads. I figure the roots are branches underground, the greying ochre of the grass. The fool might not know a whole… https://t.co/MZIqFW79Ae
I had a conversation today that brought this poem to mind. It's as devastating today as it was when I first read it. 💔 Home by Warson Shire
https://t.co/Ieo9cKjM2u https://t.co/Ieo9cKjM2u
@TheWhitneyBrown Well, at least they knew they might. I admire people who have the sort of passion and focus to explore (interior and exterior) by way of extraordinary feat. Is climbing Everest extraordinary any more?
Sacral Poetry: When limbs are severed and trunk is felled the Rootball will surge forth to; Propogate The Body in numbers unimaginable. Begin Again. Render ESSENCE.