i am water, spinning circles, widening rings i spin. they are spun
out of shocks, the shocks that shake out the circles of time, of some ancient
impact, the shock of my own source, the glimmer of my glimpse, the circle
of my awareness, the shock of my own, perhaps violent birth.
and i am time, stepping lightly like flowing from one newly created cosmos
to the next. i spin out threads of self. i weave forever. and is any step lost?
any thread erased? any cosmos ever gone forever? no. the past vitally receives
the light i throw back, and even now my future’s light throws shadows over me.
is each atom then a many-cosmosed sphere, woven of shock-waves that are spun
like mine, like planets’, like suns’ like stars’ continuously outward,
and drinking continuously inwards the nwyfre of time sprung of shocks
spun circling, spinning out from its own shock-generated and shock-violent birth?
gratitude at last, i feel. at last i can lie down quietly on the mold
and i can look up calmly through the branches of the trees.
i can lift up through my veins the milk of my mother the earth.
i can drink down through my nerves the shine of my father the sky.
i can be the new child, the mabon, the new-eyed, the new-tongued.
i can sing the magical songs of my ancient childhoods. i can be
the wild and sky-eyed woman with the ripple-of-sunshine hair.
i can be the engaging man laughing with the firebrand in his hand.
i can carry my eagle mother in my sky the whole long way of my journey.
i can craft my path, sow mountains, plains and rivers, i can seed my sky
with stars. i can wear my rivers like veins, my roads like nerves, my many-oghamed
forests like a robe, weaving of my thread the eaglet in the egg, the i of me.