THE WEAVE:

Persephone crawls up

from the Entrance of the Mine,

speaking to the stale Air

of the Underworld, as she nails

a prophecy to the sign post…

She holds
the hammer, and the nail,
"To be

at the surface,
and be far
below.

This is how
it feels, to grow
a World.

Swimming,
up for Air
to sing seasons

greetings, to this One
or that One,
but alWays far

below
the smile, sat
the True Weight

of the Matter.
A frozen feather
collects Dust.

The Scale Will
tip a tiding towards
it's plate, in Time.  Death

first, it tells.  It must be
faced.  I made no choice,
and so I made All

Shapes."