Do you hear the Serpent-Women?
In the corners of time, of the spontaneity of the day, on the thresholds of the stones, of the mineral…
Do you hear the serpent-women?
In the corners of time, of the spontaneity of the day,
on the thresholds of the stones, of the mineral memories,
from the depths of the waters, in the abyssal flow of wisdom.
In the sap of the trees and the colors of the flowers.
They create life.
The mountaintops live and touch the clouds and the stars.
The darkness of the depths lives and breathes.
Life is a verb, a sacred action.
An ancient and experimental movement.
A rhythmic and pulsating dance to the sound of the heartbeat of the cosmos and the earth.
Life that emerges and springs. That sinks and moves, transmutes.
Life that is.
Here in the finisterre the telluric serpent women live together with the entities of the wild ocean.
They also guard the valuable mineral entities that ground this place. Minerals that, in their coarseness, expand and contract to the moon’s rays, storing ancient memories. Immeasurable stories from other eras, stored here.
The moon pulls in the water, the blood, the sap, and the stones.
It empties and fills. It brings and takes. Expands and contracts. For such is the pattern of the breathing and creation of the universe, in great and small cycles, vast and short transitions.
At the thresholds of the stones, in the mountains that sing with the stars, with the ground and the wind dancing to the sound of life.
The serpent-women whisper.
