Flame Vessel

Hestia alight,candle's wick an arteryanchoring these prayersbeyond the raging ocean,its form embering hollowlike slow-cooked stew meatwhose veins once pumped a cow's blood.Feeding life through fleeting life:each, devoured, transforms.

A January Morning

As the sky pales amber and pink,winter cold against windows,the horizon hungers. Soon, hovering —the faintest brush of burning day.I stretch up, unfurling in asana,sun shimmering joyous above rooftops,my eyes closed, heavy with light,a gift for Sunna, Sulis, and Helios —this rhythm, alive with blessings,my breath a channel chasing luminescence,a triad finishing in watchful stillness,the … Continue reading A January Morning

Black Holes, Chanting That Apollon Boreas Thing, Symbols, and Poetry

Hubble Deep Field

Apollon who gleams, who fills us up like a basin —what light within lightlessness?The ancients wrote that all could be illumined —but what illumination for the edge beyond which lightdances eternal with itself alone, bound and liberated,unseen by all, where space dances out timeand time ricochets oracular in the darkest stars?Does it mean that the … Continue reading Black Holes, Chanting That Apollon Boreas Thing, Symbols, and Poetry