THE WEAVE:
The Sun feeds the zombie
sheep, in the Underworld,
and whispers about
the Grace Bale….
"Every so often, there is a Grace Bale. A bale of grace. A bale to carry like all the rest, but Lighter than. Hay scraps, gathered from the threshing floor. It shocks you into breathing a little more deeply, to heft a Lightness unanticipated. You learn something, about the Way you carry weight; re-calibrating to the body's messages, in Light of unexpected levity. Like arriving on a landing, when you thought there was one more step."
Planetary Signatures 