egg & smør

The wind is full of voices murmuring & chanting  like an old hymn to the gods of air.

They say many things,& they say it many times,over & over again,& into ethernity

Bound & released forevermore,in a process of rebirth & the evermutating awareness thereof.

But & then

Did anyone ever reckognize the very beauty of the symbol but a child

who`s mind still pure to behold divinity in a blissful gold.

& then

He said with the voice of an old ladyman

moved about like a crippled war veteran

& withered & wrenched in the nasty cold: I  shall be like a silken  flower unto the sun,& stretch myself sideways & upwards.But my strong hungry roots will ever sink deeper,to reach fresh water & stealthy food.

I shall loose myself in the beautific light & find myself again in the darkness of  night.

But ever & in between,there is a freedom for me,unspoken of,unwritten of,& even undreamed.