creative ramblings & reverie

Friday, December 9, 2011


She lay alone, only the aged beekeepers on the mountain.  And the god whose temple Nikos once uncovered there.  Fitting for her to end where he’d begun.  Fallen over one of his old stones.  At eighty, finally getting to them.  Understanding what he’d offered her.  This mountain and sky.  The ancient sage.  Too late.  Herself.


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