malins
Stumbling Seeker
Beautiful spirit of light, glorious spirit of fall. Slip from rough-spun, modest clothes. The wood is not heavy, it welcomes me as I do it. Kneel, whisper, committed now. Rising breathless and wide-eyed. Twisting in the chill, enveloped in rivers of light, soft streams of warmth, beating out the falsehood, beating into gold, beating then no more. Silence. Utter release. Drop.
The cross, it still stands.
The cross, it still stands.