Oh, we are given to the great unfurling – though we differ in gait and scent and parlance we find ourself in the unknown remembered place – again and again – under that diamond encrusted moonlit skylight is often where I meet you as I have always met you – and then there is the weather – today, rain – the resident blackbird on the front porch in the pre-dawn drizzle – I was surprised, never’ve seen him this early, wondered as I do what creatures do in the in-between hours – what secret lives they live away from our distant eyes – I suppose there is always a fear of not noticing – the fear I’ve carried since childhood of missing life, of falling asleep – this morning the rain woke me with a crash, but in my dream, it was the crash of me trying to break down a door in my family home, to save a loved one from ruin – and around every corner there I was met with deceit and destruction – trying to hold together the falling apart mess, trying to stay awake, and endless endeavour to stay alive – what I said to you this morning was true, I want to stop trying to live life – I want life to live me – you beckoned deeper wisdom to arise from these new rhythms and we threw ourselves into cold sea, warm mug and the flow of words that we let stream into this home by home fire – it is not wrong to wish to be adored – it is not wrong to smash a mug on the kitchen floor and weep for the breaking of me – it is not wrong to want to stay, and to leave – to be yours, and no ones – to imagine making things and breaking things with you as my witness, my partner in crime – to wish for you to put a seed in my belly and to become a channel – life, living through me – the warm press of your skin to mine whispers this – that life is here living through us – we transcend the dreary bends to the lofty realms where our laughter echoes, ecstatic – this is the house of god.