This recipe is as old as the ages are old

More ancient than the most ancient of beings, trees, creatures, or even fossils that still reside on this earth plane we take our physical nourishment from

Only, it is a new recipe now for what we are now, every evolutionary iteration that we have in our midst, at this time

We each might need to scour the threads, some very bare, some still shining sovereign, to discern those ancient traces

That return each and every one of us to the most pristine truth of what we are

One recipe stirs within my dreamtime, a sacred housing of the rich multiplicity reaching b e y o n d  whatever amnesias once wracked my living essence down to the bone

I woke to this hunger, letting it crack me open, showing me the journey way to the most hidden of truths

And yet something was needed to nourish me along this way

What recipe to draw from hard ground, the driest of remnants, grit and obscurity; what song?

The very least of these came in order to speak a new language, familiar, yet otherworldly from the deepest chasms that, somehow, I chose to look away from out of fear of not ever finding myself (out of fear of not ever finding  m y s e l f  )