All is spiraling inward and out, the orgin of consciousness, a young woman buried with colorful shell beads, the Hallucinagenic God King commands from his pillow of bones.

Where do you belong in this world? Ten toes deep in dark soil, moss growing between your arms, curving around your ears, flowers spilling from your lips. What are you, human, no different than clay, not above the earth, not below it, you're bleeding in it. Struggle to see deep time; yet move with it, particles shooting through our body, we have been here since stardust, & will remain molecules drifting in the depths of forever…