The foggy presence of a forgotten ritual. Are you ready for where the day takes you? A strangeness, and then something speaks. “What we do is secret.” Know, will, dare, and keep silent—remember that there is a wisdom and an order to all things. Who will walk with you along this dreaming?
For today: the color of mountains shrouded in fog, moldavite, music in the key of B, the sound of an owl hooting outside your window, the everlasting kinship of mystic spires blue salvia.
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Waning Gibbous
The moon is 17 days old