The sun has gone. I turn around and walk away. From old ghosts, old autumn hopes and dreams. They no longer have a place in this lifetime. They have taken my precious time, worried and wasted, drained me dry. Hope has fallen from my eyes as dead leaves to...
More
The sun has gone. I turn around and walk away. From old ghosts, old autumn hopes and dreams. They no longer have a place in this lifetime. They have taken my precious time, worried and wasted, drained me dry. Hope has fallen from my eyes as dead leaves to Earth. To rot, to nourish. My bare wooden bones are left to brave the winter snows and whisper my tales to the winds. These dark, bloodied roots plunge deep, oh so deep, into the soft, moist folds of her body. I feel her energy, the life force that gave me life. I breathe her, take her deep inside me, and take her blood into me as she takes mine. The hope, the dream. She lets me return to her womb where I can sleep for a while, ready for another re-birth. The black mother of winter understands, feeling her own death from within her creation and draws her midnight, moon spun cloak around us both. I am safe. Mother and child waiting for the right moment. Waiting in the darkness of her womb as once again I recreate myself. Transformation
Less
