Rites Of Passage


There was never a reason to stay, as I slipped away. Detached to remember what leads, to follow the shadow in through the dark. As a canopy of dense limbs envelopes a narrow passage that carries me through. This old canoe is rough, worn like the earth, yet hangs steady in her balance. Between the final dances of scattering light, the moon broods, as black smoke remembers the day that died. The eclipse of night shifts the shape and form of what stood before, as I follow the river that runs wide into the great expanse of earthen-sky. Such clarity is held in the stillness of our minds, to percieve the wild motions, the ebb and flow of all time.

– Josh Fleming

Image by: Rudolf Vlček


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