Whereas the grid in hand
Is worth the Stone
The hum and thrum
The pulse of being
Gieas heart beneath me feet
I bend again to place me
Ear to ground
Me face to sand n brine
N flow to other times
In present past

If heart should serve me well
Then one must surly tell and sea
The wave of tidal breath
That moves the shift n grind

And with the sound
The Word
A birdie call is heard
Tremulous and shrill
As if the force of nature streams to closing

"Angels hear me all !
Rise the Aark of Coven!
Let the Song of Songs begin!"

While few and far between
Dispersed
In random dark
With passion
Opens up the heart
Lovers all
Have heard Creations call
To gnu Beginnings