the septenary (diapholom) wrote,
the septenary
diapholom

A single sunflower wilting and dropping its seeds.


The sun shines so bright that it compels all of us to empty ourselves
out and bake in the light and the warmth of spirit. We are transfixed
by solar power and impelled to unite with our destiny, no matter how
extravagant or unlikely that destiny proves to be. A momentum is pul-
sating, with edges to track. In order to do so you have to breathe into
it and let go a whole lot, and then there you are, calling onward. You
can hear it. Everybody else can too. And so the spirit-caller cracks
through and brings futures alive in the light of a sun that never sets.

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