Dinosaur bones buried deep in the earth, grand in all their mystery. Colorless, they still hold power. Time’s swift flow is found here underground. An audible rasp, a low hum: use it or lose it, baby. Close your eyes and picture the infinite spiral of an etheric silver cord anchoring deeply into core. What have you buried?
Today: the color of sulfur, watermelon tourmaline, music in the key of G, the eerie hum of a theremin, and the boundary-abiding nature of pink yarrow.
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Waning Gibbous
The moon is 21 days old