Seven Scenes from The Legend of Cempasúchil is a mythic, dramatic meditation told in seven short scenes. It follows Xóchitl, a seventeen-year-old herb-gatherer whose fearless singing reaches Ah Xoc Kin - the Fifth Sun - who has burned through eternity without feeling anything. Hearing her “song without need” disrupts his cosmic duty, and he descends in human form to meet her. Across seven nights, Xóchitl teaches the Sun to breathe, to listen, and to sing - while she begins to change under the heat of his presence. Their love is beautiful and dangerous: intimacy becomes transformation, and transformation becomes consequence. When the Sun tries to save her by pulling her into immortality, Xóchitl refuses to be consumed. She chooses the earth instead - chooses to become something separate, something that can guide without being possessed. https://youtu.be/cS7SnEdONVU
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I fed the birds this morning, And I thought again of you. Sitting on your back porch, Pipe and mug held in your hands, Sprinkling seed beneath the roses, Contemplating, making plans. It was a strangely beautiful connection - Silent, unshared, all alone. Just a memory of conversation In a world that has moved on. As we strive and as we struggle, And move forward with our plans, It's comforting to know we have friends In foreign, distant lands. Life is good.
The ship was built in sheltered docks, Her timbers sound and true. Her name was carved, her sails were bent, Her compass held its view. The charts were drawn. The stores were stowed. The captain knew his trade. But still she rested, safe ashore, A promise only made. Then came the call to cross the bar, Where river meets the sea. The harbour ropes were cast away "Now sail for all to see." She entered waters shared by all, Where every ship must fare. No private pond, no hidden cove, But open currents there. The sea remembered where she'd passed, Each bearing, wake, and tack. No sailor could deny the course, Or call the journey back. Yet oceans do not favour names, Nor bless a painted bow. A vessel earns her reputation By how she rides the flow. Deployment is that crossing point, The harbour left behind. A token joins the common sea, Its fortune with the tide entwined.
A token is a little boat, A promise carved from code. But boats are only useful Where living waters flowed. A thousand boats on desert sand Will never cross the plain. They need a river deep enough To carry every name. Liquidity's that flowing stream, The water under trade. It lets a buyer find a seller, A bargain swiftly made. When many hands bring water there, The current gathers strength. A single cup is quickly drained; A river runs at length. Too little water, every oar Disturbs the mirrored face. A tiny trade can raise a wave That shifts the market's place. But where the channel broadens wide, Great vessels pass with ease. The price bends only gently there, Like grasses in the breeze. So treasure is not coin alone, Nor numbers on a screen. Its strength is in the moving stream That keeps the market clean. For wealth that cannot freely flow Is wealth that's locked away. A river earns its living By giving water every day.
Oh yes! Another story! Its bubbling in the pot! My heart is singing with the tea It knows that what is what. I sit and wait with bated breath To see what will emerge From the new mix of lore and love Stored on the magic storeroom shelf, 'long side the sticks and stones and mason jars And salt and bow and flint. I love this magic brew you brew I love to watch you shine. I'm here to hear, to see, to breathe To notice and engage To play the game of kings and queens And in that play, perhaps to learn To own my throne on the white hill And the dark one in my mind.
Oh yay! I found the starting point When I went into the town I am so pleased you left it up there And did not take it down Full long have we been on our marks And waiting for the gun Now the signal has been given And we're going for a run. Of course its not a race, you see There is no track or prize Instead just play and laugh and talk And happy smiling eyes. There are secrets in the pencil And there's truth within the ink That will only come in silence Don't speak - they'll vanish in a wink! So let us play the game of life While we learn to play our part Lets dance upon the neon sands And share the secrets of our heart
A shelf is not a prison And a drawer is not a jail A box is not a punishment And a chest is not a fail They're just harbours on the voyage They are detours on the road For a story that is travelling Slowly making its way home Forging onward to the fertile vale Seeking the Guardian of the Mind Who will tend the sacred ember That is the treasure of mankind
