Spirit rising Turn our heads towards the sky I know no other I see but truth, and I hear but music I smell but flowers in gardens bright Prayer The dirt clay of our bodies aching desperately to reach the stars The stitching of wings The whispered voices at dusk The slow burn of the incense stick The songs, twisted and strung, words steeped in Magic, and those who came before Wild, tangled woods, and pools of fate - Leela Autumn 2023 |