There aren't any Somedays,
Just a handful of Nows:
The acorns of future memories
Unthinking stuck
In the pockets of habituation.

Good-bye class and classmates.
It is time to break the shell
That protects us in our seeking.
We will stretch
Hard into dirt,
Hard into sky,
Hard into the Oaken glory of who we are.

Go and be who you are:
The Body of Christ,
The Goddess of Body,

The manifest Song of Faerie

--Scott Schulz All rites reversed. Use what you Will.

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