The old voice calls me back, and I feel the earth singing beneath my feet.

The warm soil of her skin, her generosity still means life.

Old friend

Old mother

Pachamama.

I feel us moving together

in time

through time

our momentum

in rhythm.

I think of this as I watch the sky, listening to the sound of the stars

that washes over me

and down the sleeping mountain.

What wonders have the stars seen?

How far have they traveled?

What stories do they know?

I think my own stories have become untethered from me,

displaced me,

therefore losing me.

I’ve dived deep into the sky river Mayu,

swam with the yana phuyu,

the dark clouds of the galaxy.

Was it with them that I left something behind?

Was it there

that I entrusted some time

while floating through the space matter of histories

long disintegrated,

among the potentials

of worlds-to-be?

A telling rumble crawls through the clear sky.

I’ve seen this before,

a dream has shown me this moment.

That’s how I made it here,

so I know that we must ready

our eyes.

The recurrences are quick.

Sky river Mayu opens across the heavens

pouring out from an invisible tearing seam.

It pulses,

its depth flows and undulates into itself,

waves ripple out into golden halos.

From within,

slowly,

with the gentleness that the expanse

of infinity affords them,

they wake,

the yana phuyu,

and gold

and ruby

and sapphire eyes open.

How beautiful, those colossal beings.

They are darker than the night,

and you’ll find them on the darkest ones,

visible only if you care to stop

and watch the sky for their eyes to find you.

Eyes that sparkle in the cosmos,

often hidden

by our fear of slowing down,

of accepting the dark as a truth

and not a symptom of

of regress.

Then

Whispers from the sky,

quiet calls.

Their echoes grow louder,

cascading

down

the valley walls.

If we open our eyes,

together we’ll see the now and then.

We’ll watch

as they tell us

that we will follow time into the sun.

What chance of sense is there in this?

I’ve searched

for as long as I can remember.

But that’s all

I remember.

yupanki

Words

A Entender

Echoes in the Valley