If I approach before, must I retreat after? The mirror is always turning. The reflection reverts, echos, remembers, forgets. Meets itself, coming and going. Centered, stilled.
on the cusp
earth bows to the sun
Perhaps the sudden and expanded silence is what heals, releases the mind from meaning. Can words ever really stand in for what they are not?
Without time, I can relocate who I am. I reach for next, but I don’t understand until later how very far it is from now.
the circle dances
Frank at dVerse has us thinking about the Solstice.
And my title has me thinking about Joni.
More art from the archives.