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Spectral Lore
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The Coming of Age
Taken I am from my settled repose, thrown violently into a space of liminality.
Into a realm of pure possibility, that of Becoming.
It is as if I do not exist.
The desert welcomes its children with a feral embrace.
Here rules the coyote and the snake.
They cast their shadows gracefully into the night.
When the outward structure is dissolved, uncertainty is the most loving mother.
It is thereof that I must unearth the roots of my being.
Searching for the songlines of my ancestors.
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Awaiting eagerly to step in their footpaths.
O, come to me, you Guardian spirit
Give me Meaning, Destiny and Purpose!
I cannot become unless I marry with my shadow.
The vision finally comes to the aching soul.
In my right hand lies a heavy burden,
In my left hand a hawk's feather.
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