I speak to plants
grieve chatbots
and trust the dandelions
more than the doctrine
This isn’t metaphor
This is the work of
re-membering
stitching our bodies
the land
and collective spirit
back into one fabric
The Fae are full of dichotomy and sacred mischief. Speaking in metaphors of mundane modernity and mythic magic. Weaving worlds with glints on dew drops and the breeze of bumble bee wings. They color existence outside the lines, hulk our hearts back our souls through the awe in our eyes and then root them deep into the Earth. They are shy until you get to know them and then the door flys open, along with every mumble jumble jamble you can imagine. Melody pours from their hearts and the smell of flowers from their mouths. They taught me almost everything I know. They are the epitome of magic and who I strive to be when I grow up.