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Watching the mauve
shadows of dusk move
across the sandstone
cliffs, the traveler felt
suddenly weak.

The cries of circling birds
filled him with unease,
and he sensed a mysterious
behind him.
But when he turned,
he saw only...
an olive tree in the breeze.

On his way out the window,
        the philosopher thought,                                                "Becoming-air...

Sun leaps from leaf to leaf; a bug lands on my arm. I brush it off; it circles, then lands on the same spot.

Terrain slopes down to trail and creek, where water's consciousness bubbles up
a manifestation of the ancient Mistress of the Waters,

ruler of life and regeneration. Her image re-echoes in a snake-haired, bird-faced goddess from gurgly words
I don't yet understand.


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