Trillions of cells in your body remember what your mind has forgotten. Your bones are woven of the unborn, every chromosome entangled with the dark red star-broth of a distant nebula. The irony is that your ancestors, long dead, scintillate all around you in the dream-time, yearning for you to bless them by being more fully Present.
Art: Aboriginal dream-time by Colleen Wallace Nungari
No comments:
Post a Comment