2-14-2022

I REMEMBER A PORTAL


We could sink, were it not for the wooden skis, by the majesty of it all - on our hands and knees in the crystalline desiccated powder, looking up from the subtle songs of winter that whistle through the trees all around us, it’s unmistakable. This frozen lake, snow powder settled down like the surface of silent waves between the whirling bowl made by the vortex-song softly sang through the evergreens, to look up at the sky - like the scrying mirror, that occult surface which becomes a portal and from that frozen lake we look up - up into water abyss of deep purple and black, up into a thousand stars twinkling deeper and farther than any we’ve dreamed, swirls of cosmic dust and orders of gods and multidimensional stories we’ll only ever hear single tiny facet of…

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