The Spirits Underneath

Tortoise and Snake live in deep waters. They are the spirits of darkness and the underground, of density and gravitas, of shadow and bone. Bones are alive. Bone marrow is alive. I see the marrow as jet black, sparkling indigo light and it runs through the channels of my bones enhancing the vibration, exchanging energies with the universe.

That which is dense is very much alive.

I learned from the whispers of the one in the center of the temple who sat in the throne that was cocooned in protection by long trailing curtains that swayed and billowed with the gentle winds.

Like a womb inside a womb, I tucked myself into your lap and you whispered, "You can choose how to die, but you can't avoid it. And I will hold you however you decide."

I shed silent tears as a spark of fire lit inside my chest. I am scared of both ways, yet there is a useful sense of anger that opens my throat, "No!" Shadows like smoke hurtle from my mouth and beyond the black horizon.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a vessel of water; a tall hourglass shape with pink hues melted across a wisp of clouds in a vanilla sky. I cupped the vase in both hands, lifted it to my lips and I drank. They were my tears. They quenched my thirst.

I died, then drank my tears.

Snake grew wings and Tortoise climbed into the heart of the other. Their necks became one and the shell, a saddle for me to ride. We flew into a dark night sky lit by the galaxies and stars. I was born again.

I made the choice not to let my shadow kill me, but to love my shadow goodbye.