hearth of language
Set the table, and let the light fall,
cut the bread, cost nothing but time.
Read my face for the story—
for and, or but, yet so—
we keep finding ways to meet.
A few laughs shared,
a lot of pauses filled,
twenty of those small gestures
put us back in step.
So often, many times,
and always once more,
my hand set beside yours,
the rhythm unchanging,
the word read aloud together.
Not grand, not distant—
just the steady cost of care,
the hearth of language,
the warmth of being here.
.
To the sounds of echoing howls and wardrums beating the heart of Hell...
SATAN as Coyote released from The Abyss to ascend therein the crucifiction, raising infernal tomohawk, scalps the nazarene for justice assured the Paganative people the world over throughout history and indigenous culture. Ancient Dæmon Gods rise from the smokes of the bonefire. Warriors and families gather at the dreaded Feast of The Beast where sacrificial lamb is served.
Upon spears the skulls of pilgrims still in capotain hats, picked by vultures. All manner of indulgence is enjoyed, and the natural order is restored. ∞