Waking up in winter in the silent and slow motionless pace
ignoring the busy, have to, shop shop shop, lights ablaze, old songs attempting to fence in
all the expectation of what is supposed to be encircled instead in the beauty of what it is
time.
to blow smoke like the dragon within
space.
to see the perpetual universe in all my relations
peace.
to hear the silent pitch swallowed by snowflake multitudes
Living now in this woke-white-privledged-by-birth-on-stolen-lands-Polish-Scottish-French-goodness-knows-what-else body honouring the truth. ancestry. culture. a long nowness still being unearthed, living now in December 2025 is painful. exquisite.
Feeling duality at every turn of the spiral
