Subtle shifts re-shape the internal baskets carrying so much weight within.
Their handles worn from evenings gripping their delicately woven threads so tight.
Their insides wet with wisdom, warm with the nectar one is only rewarded with after that harrowing journey
Through hallowed hallways and well worn reed walls after months of pacing, gripping, filling, emptying…
Lavender and sage, cookies and song, death and want, longing…
So thick one would re-weave one’s own self into a larger more delicate vessel simply to create more space.
