I came into the world through a commingling of mountains and wildfires, rivers and forests. Rain and mist and lightning. Also starlit evenings and the first fireflies of summer. Perhaps some dark matter. There was an infusion of poetry. Early morning birdsong. Aliveness and embodied wonder. It was a longing for the light. Shadows of paradise. A concert of hyacinths and autumn sonatas filled with unthinkable tenderness. The book of the dead man infused with nostalgia for dying. Sonnets to Orpheus. Those open secrets. A book of luminous things. Hymns to the night and leaves of grass. Laughing lost in the mountains. All in the name of sacramental acts.
√(−1)
Imaginarium Doorway