Tonight I scribe as I have been, but in this moment, this now, this prayer, the night surrounds me, the bitter wind its lament and cry the loving spirit flying the birds to the Mother’s affections. (“The meek shall inherit the eartH”?) I don’t know, but the truth is now resting inside of my path, my chosen path to salvation, to live, love and laugh! I had to craft this, my belief that I am a son of God and Love. Not the only son, but merely one son of the many sons and daughters of Creation. I could believe no other way, not if I was to reach the arms of Love and God in my dance… What way would you have had me chisel, up or down? I imagined that I was chiseling my way out of the hell of my own creation, upside down as I was, I had to be making my way up, climbing through the snakes of my conjuring. We, I believe, can go no other way or be subject to sleep forever in bliss, without pain and remembrance, without thought or Love, save for your spirit, Love’s taken what it needed
(The Weaver's Song)