Pilgrims

I crossed the Arctic circle and slipped; where no man's conception had braced for decline. Downward I fell hoping to find ground but none appeared. Was I entering space or leaving? Nonetheless the freedom seemed senseless; unburdened yet captive. I'd become brethren to rarity as the warmth increased. Images of Recurrence made playthings out of my wagering organs. As I stripped clean my fear, the core perceived my lack of origin. Humble myself to grand design. The root of passage is always open for pilgrims.

Taunton State

Access the skeleton key. Become as the locked minutes who corral themselves into the wheel of internal chance- Unparalleled/without heritage. Energy stored stages new heights we forget amid gallows of unbelief. We lie fallow in the hollows of jaundiced springs scratching away memories of our saltgrassed youth. Our confidences poisoned until the guilty residue renews our motives.