This is the realm of the passing away. All that
exists does not for long.
Whatever comes into this world never stops sliding
toward the edge of eternity.
Form arises from formlessness and passes back,
arising and dissolving in a few dance steps between
creation and destruction.
We are born passing away.
Seedlings and deadfall all face forward.
Earthworms eat what remains.
We sing not for that which dies but for that which
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
A winter solstice 2020 short stream for a Movement Medicine community
Give yourself permission to rest and receive lullabies for your heart.
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