Wonder is the basis of worship. -Thomas Carlyle

My dear Muse- I understand the source of your reticence. I have agonized over which parts of my soul are fair to reveal to you here, which parts to confess. My heart and mind boil with the tensions that are taking place in my life. Whatever we have is separate, sacred. Fragile but eternal. Holy and wholly unrestrained. I cannot clearly reconcile this within myself except to say that our connection confirms to me something higher. God is goodness in everything.

Words are things passing lit up by the air. The colors of your spells are careful and deep.

I can never name things like they want to be, I cannot make the voice for dark clouded waters.

Teach me to weave mists, dear, show me where your Selkie skin is hidden, so I may return you to the sea. My cold hands offer much that may evaporate under the demanding light of day.