Seagulls Watch

The warmth, and the quiet, a rock in my hand.

If there was another place, I wouldn’t go.

The maiden, the mother, and the crone call to me.

Across the expanse, and the material.

Eleven, Eleven. There are too many signs, so I acquiesce.

The fire burns as I lay sleepless, yet still.

The answers come slowly, so I attend again.

The many aspects fold through the day,

He spreads his salty wings and glides into the future.

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https://thinkingmoon.com/2018/11/06/i-am-invisible/

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