xiii. mud

turned up, as in the spading of the garden or uprooting of tendrils, we seek the earth. we react with remarkable ease to communion with the soil, we ease with the touch of skin on rock, we crawl. despite the warning of darkness we fall and bore deep with nothing but the thought of self-love and dirt. reaching some depth or some dense root perhaps, we pause and lie still, waiting as if for some outside call or a heavy step. then as unnoticed splendor we rush up, in recoil, to meet the glare of sun or the all too familiar cold of night. upwards, we push and emerge, sudden, fountain-like: to form afterwards another pool of mud. Tags: mud, station, initiazen, titans, initiations, doctormagnus, adsense, google