A caveman crosses the highway, squats and gathers foragable weeds in a grocery store parking lot. Nourishment inconspicuously bursting up through the cement, an offering under our noses.
An awareness waits in the lingering dark. An ancient perspective is stirring in the dawn light. What will we see in the afternoon, when the sun is high, and no shadows fall? The stones and rivers, the nails and hinges, our veins and hairlines will speak. Here comes the mantra: the world is my body.
No comments:
Post a Comment