There is a truth that lies behind my unblinking eyes. A truth that is uncomfortable to hear because it is spoken with a forked tongue.

In the stillness there is transformation. Scales that protect,  harden and dry, a time for abrasion arrives. To move in obstruction with everything that surrounds. Until the old skin peels in waves.  Strips of white webs lacing down my spine. These are the scripts that bear this old law of the Earth.

To stay close and give your pain to Her. You cannot carry it, it must be shed. You too will outgrow the form you inhabit. What was once your armor will begin to suffocate you. When the pain won’t allow you to rest, let it go. The time for transformation is continally at hand.

Resurrection is the lesson of the serpent. Long before the garden and the tree. Long before He hung on the cross. Didn’t the fruit I gave you change everything?