Birth

Look for the ocean follow the river drink from the trickle enter the drop find the mountain in a mote of dust the boundless light in the core of a photon trembling dimensionless dot of nothing containing trillions of unborn planets in the black hole of your whirling stillness which if you try to understand you are a peacock deluded by the beauty of your tail but if you don't you are a raven of amazement stroking the void with black wings ululating yet grasping in your beak the golden galaxy morsel of the still-warm loaf you stole from the windowsill of the crone's cottage in the ancient forest her root-swollen face entangled mycelium serpent lips wailing names curses blessings upon you hrim shrim krim klim as you plunge through waves of sub-nuclear night in the pupil of your own eye taking no receiving your first breath in this world.


Ravenart, multi-media sculpture in wood, metal, and amber by my dear friend Liz Miller