Again, I rose early and walked in shale gorges both smooth and jagged, by the wild water and evergreens. I moved through the day like an athlete though my feet are broken, my throat so sick of onions.
Again, I sense the presence of a bear, and wonder if that is your animal spirit – vast, warm, strong. Steam rises from a bowl of soup, the wind sways the treetops, and I long for company.
Again, I long to burn, a flare in a dark wet cavern. I long to illuminate, pluck at the beaded web, reach for a single strand of – not transcendence – something earthly, simple. Fill my rib cage ordinarily, break my back over the knee of witnessing the world.