.The Keeper Calls.
The keeper of the waters once whispered from the darkness,
.remember The Waters before the water.
.the seeding grounds for all of possibility.
.hive
.that the high flying bee
.and the heavy flying bee
.call home
.it calls itself by many names,
.swimming them through the form-lending
.primordial songs that guide us here
.a symphony of unending tongues
.thrumming microbes into community,
.into collective context
.weaving archetypes and blueprints;
.funnels slipping humanity further into form.
The keeper of the waters once whispered from the place of all beginnings,
.remember The Womb before The womb
.before the womb.
.where life yawns itself into morning
.and calls itself holder, builder, giver, knower
.calls itself power, vulnerable, centre, home
.calls itself home
.in the creases of contracting walls
.and transmuting ceilings
.calls to itself in the dances of creation
.of tending;
.an ecology teeming with love and
.infinite potential.
.an ecology of care and nurture
.a fractal of all of life
The keeper of the waters once whispered from the parched places of the womb,
.how can we know that life’s athrive
.if the womb and her ecologies
.lay wasted, unmet
.infected with fear and hate?
.how are we to heal our homes
.when the womb and her ecologies
.grow foreign to themselves,
.when their rhythms and cycles of wild are
.packed tight and neat into palatable cages?
.when those that rise from her mystery,
.forget their way home?
.how are we to honour the concentric circles of home
.as we spit venom and disdain at her?
The keeper of the womb and her ecologies whispers from her ailing beds,
.beauty knows beauty,
.love knows love,
.hope knows hope,
.home knows home.
.return
