The Warning

Θ

he Queen raised her head and spoke,

“Summer shall end one Moon early this year”.

Her subjects nodded their approval.

She continued, “As Spring began one Moon early and Summer began one Moon early so shall Fall begin one Moon early.  To this I add that Winter too shall begin one Moon early.  What stores we have not must be now drawn from the land.  From each field must come into this Palace the food of our Winter.  Placed herein by the many hands of the faithful.  To secure for all of us a future in the flowering fields of Spring.”

The subjects buzzed loudly with excitement as they hurried to their tasks.

The Queen, finished with her proclamation, excused herself and began anew her sacred task.  Laying eggs in the honeycomb.

θ

Thoth’s Scale

Ω

How many people have i done things to

How many people have i done things for

How many times have i done nothing

ω

Mute Thoughts

Ξ

Man could wrap his arms around creation

If he bothered to maintain a line

Back to the beginning

Though, in fact,

Our arms are shorter

Than our legs

Since most can’t remember

The ground they touched today

If anyone touched ground at all

ξ

Necessity

Θ

There must be Gods

For in a world of

Can Nots

There must be

An untouchable

Is

That remains exalted

Beyond the reach of

Condemnation

Able to absolve

Diminished spirits from

Doubt

Imbuing upon those

That persevere

Grace

..

Or

..

I Didn’t throttle

My boss

Today

Does that mean

I can get a

Cookie

θ

Thumbnail

Θ

A

Single

Rust colored pine needle

Balancing upright

Upon the marbled slate-blue iced over lake

Framed at the edges in deep glittering snow

Binding Spruce into great flowing columns

Anchoring an embracing domed azure sky

Crested by the blinding-white golden Sun

θ

WhoDunIt

◊

Mystery romances the lost

Ginning what truth remains

of a seed

long after it germinates

.

Celebrating each revealed truth

As gospel

fresh from the makers lips

.

Until as fire purifies ash

is the acorn found

in the flames of reason

◊

Nail Cemetery

Θ

With each strike of the hammer

The nail plunges deeper into the wood

Each hit concealing more and more

Leaving less and less to see

Until eventually the nail is gone

Pushed entirely beneath the surface

Never to be seen again

No mark or blemish

Where once stood iron

The hallmark of a skilled craftsman

θ