Thursday, April 07, 2005

First Post: Taking Flight

Here, the air soft, the wind draft from the nearby ridgeline coming fair under our wings, we take leave of the ground. We circle upwards on the thermals, rising until we survey the long stretches of desert scrub and sandstone bluff. It begins for us. We are borne on the wind and born from the ashes of all things past. Welcome, new/old thing. Welcome, soul that is both persistant and ever-changing.

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Across Inconstant Breath

Would that this skin this frail armor atop the husk of slow departure -  Would that it held against the teeth  of night's maw a...