You know those twisted roots
laying so carefully on the forest floor
spun by conifer…
spun by tongue….
I watch where I step.
If I find myself tangled,
tripped up in the lies,
I unveil that bright thing in the depth of my chest
and find my way with the Light.
The twisted tongues weave their twisted roots.
There’s a light I wear that pushes truth through.
This little beauty is built of
an original casting and pearl. It’s thick with texture, gorgeously flowing and organic in form.
There’s a dash of the holy here.
One of a kind.