Writing

The Archaeologist

This is a complete course
in the expansion of your consciousness.

Your tools:
divine femininity
powerful masculinity
balance
heartbreak
loss
devastation
ecstasy

Dig past the root, it is just
your ego.
Having been watered for decades
it will put up a fight.

Dig past the hurt,
past the people and projections
that were empty fodder all along (the way)

Dig, child,
at a feverish, fervent pace.
Time is an illusion
and a hovering stopwatch.

Tic, Toc.

Dig to the rhythm of the second hand.
Close your eyes.
Let wisdom guide you now.

This desolate, fertile soil
Ripe and waiting,
freed from the tangles
of the ego’s root:

It longs for the fertilization
of your tears.

Weep into the cold, dark Earth.
She can hold you.

Dig and weep.

She can hold you.

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