We yearn for sacred circles.
Circles where nothing harms us
when we enter them.
Sanctuary circles, where within them,
there is no more bias, no more conflict
and no more demands to take more from us.
Forgiveness is the way,
speaks Nuin The Ash
A sailor of the sea of life
tormented by unpredictable swelling seas
and unpredictable calmness of the seas.
A sailor of the sea of life
nourished with fear
that has constipated his whole being.
Became a castaway from his sunken temple ship
sunken outside of where ash trees circled.
Swellings throughout his body
of fluids, fire, excrement and wind
not knowing where to flow for calm.
Swellings exposing his flag
of his singular priesthood of damnation
for the offered gift of guided destiny.
Circling the ash trees no matter where he was.
They were pointing, pointing, pointing.
His swellings swirling, swirling swirling.
The castaway circled and circled
outside the circle of the Nuins, the ashes.
But as he circled
his weakness made him slower and slower.
The slower he moved
a sweetness of fragrance teased him.
A fragrance of sweetness
that became stronger the slower he moved
beckoning him to enter the circle
to feed, be nourished and be at home.
to read an explanation of this story poem please click here