THE WEAVE:
The Sun rolls down his window,
where Saturn stands on the sidewalk.
In the Sun set, Sunny slips
Saturn, a piece of paper…
And says, "This is my number. My phone is shitty at texting. Think of it like a one Way street. You can tell me whatever you want there, but never expect more than a couple brief sentences from me. It is a glorified hot-spot, basically. And I can't open any links you send me. Links and media, are computer things. Send those to my e-mail." "But doesn't it make you feel slow, and isolated?" Saturn asks. "Yes, and no. I like feeling slow. And everyone I want to reach me, knows how to do it. Mostly they call me, and I feel as if I have a very special little walkie-talkie. We do not expect each-other. Deadlines, are for e-mails. We just have our little Magickal conversations in sprinklings of beLoved minutes, when we find ourSelves in unison."
Planetary Signatures 