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Winter's End





The star slides between our rock and the celestial fish. Pisces pulls everything into one's murkiest depths. Floating atop the waves is not an option; reflection is a requirement. Methodical, cerebral self-assessment gives way to an indescribable language of intuitive perception. Revelations are demurely shown while time ceases to 'tick' by, and rather trickles, gushes, flows onwards. Secrets- once silenced and drowned- whisper reminders of weathered storms, hidden scars, and the masks that are worn even when one is alone and regarding the mirror's image. The clash between sincere desire and actual reality can swirl into a powerful maelstrom that incites change, or it can whip up a tempest that indiscriminately destroys strengths and weaknesses alike.




The northern lands do not slumber deeply in winter. Its sleep under the ice is light, its dreams illuminated by the dance of the aurora. Equinox approaches. The sun creeps ever higher in the sky, its daytime visits lasting longer for every day that passes. The warmth of the light lures the songbirds from their tree-holes and burrows, sending them on flits through the frozen forest. The tall ones are naked of green. Something deep within them stirs, prompting them to drink from the earth. The chill of the air fades enough to harbor the occasional whiff of awakening soil. There are hinted promises of technicolor wildflowers and wiggly earthworms and bombastic aspen leaves. Skies, once gray and flat, dresses now in azures more brilliantly hued than the day before.




Ceasefire! Death and Life embrace. All is everything and nothing. There is no fulcrum here, only harmony and blurred lines and accepted fates. The surface is always there, always needed to support and suppress, yet is always forgotten- a barrier between what has been and what will be, a canvas for the here and now. Its above holds court with the sweeping chaos of Life, whereas its below hosts the Universe's rudiments that sought solace within the Cthonic grottos.

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