Principles of Alignment
Hailing from Parallel Universe Number 9, I am my own personal shaman. Gazing skyward, startled by the stars, I've become hell-bent to clean old veins of the fatty scraps.
After 1100 lives on Earth I've come to tug at the lint of sleep thieves, to dance the new sacrifice in this, my body, a labyrinth.
Drumming the hangèd man’s dance, I twist my limbs into a corporeal question.
I'll burn denial in the crucible of love. My whisper, one verb, rises like this slate-grey smoke, ascending spire-wise, filling the church of my own voice in answer.
I have the intention to find my lost will, to remember everything, and to align with Source light.
Here: this one verb, I offer, in my speechless fashion.