Remember: the symbols glyphed on the door, within the fire, gaze at the radiating pent-angle, until you begin to see the door. Cease, then. So as to have it there. Brink. Escape route, lightly camouflaged, waiting through the years.
We are the Demon-in-the-Maze, the thickets, the moon caught within branches, Sirius trapped in glistening hawthorn. The harmonics of dream choirs, strings, brasses are the woven tresses, twigs, thorns: the simple lines you follow all end in the same entanglement: the comb.
released June 28, 2015
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