melting over and into flesh grounded by the knowing that it is real, the belief that it is actual. proven by its ability to affect and be affected. not just figments of imagination. not empty carcasses or philosophical constructs. to believe we have no roots in the universe is to discredit the histories that came before. the fat, blood, connective tissues, and muscle of my pasts inhabit my body. the love, forgetting, grief, and memory guides my mind. i can feel their guidance in spirit. an ephemeral connection. a throughline no matter the conditions. my hand remains held in calm and in peril. i somehow find my feet underneath me once again. shakily moving onward. knowing that the stardust in my bones contains the wisdom and resilience from the beginning of time. towards, up, forward. i face the horizon in hope and despair. what lies beyond? is the magick of the sunset true? the light gently holds me with such promising tenderness. makes me believe, but not without shadows. it is in the dark where we discover decrepitness, shining glimmers to see that our histories are constant, graciously providing what we may fear to be unknown. away, down, backwards. i look over my shoulder. the vastness is overwhelming. is this where memory rests? with the moon reflecting hereafter onto the already happened? for the then, now, and next. birthed by powers beyond that needed to prove my survival as necessary. 〰️