Love.
Dove above.
A treasure trove.
A shift, this incessant move.
Walk.
Stepping up to the Anvil, I lick the metal with my scorching blue flame tongue. Blade dances, twirling in, out, and about, the wind wafting the smell of sweet bread through hair and heart. Like a snake I strike the metal with piercing blows and cool it down with an opened Heart, passion of the deep, dark waters, quenching the thirst of connection, spilling out unto the earth. Magic is afoot . . . Reach up and strike below, be whole at the Anvil!
We are all set out to do work in this world. Whatever work we do, whether it is healing work, building work, physical work, inspirational work, ecstatic work, or any work otherwise or inclusively . . . though this work may be for others, the work we do for community is inherently for ourselves. This sounds selfish at first. I pray you dig deeper and swim within the pool of cooled meaning to my statement. As humans, we are thinkers. As thinkers, we walk out into the world and find as may ways in which we can identify ourselves with the surrounding world. (Thus was born the poetic artistry of personification!) And in striving to identify ourselves through our surroundings, the work we fall upon doing somehow is