out on the southern point, i found the Blue Place.
an hour on foot, the end of the world.
steep cliffs plunge to the Ocean far below.
tourists stand at the bottom of stairs,
spanish gypsys steals offerings from makeshift alters.
i sit perched on a rock, floating between the Sky and the Sea.
Blue above, Blue below, merged one
blinding light, white clouds, fog swirl around me. heaven.
The Ocean calls, Come Here.
i say - yes, later, elsewhere.
No, Here. i begin my descent of lands end.
on the way down these steep rocks, i found, alone:
two goats; a fisherman; and a thick vein of quartz.
the meaning of which, to each their own.
finally at the bottom, truly the edge.
rocks plunge under breakers and foam, blue.
an obstacle only the dead can pass.
i prepare an offering of all, my last,
and wait for the time to step in
here at the edge of the Blue Place.
face to Face, waiting for each other
i lay my offerings down and Her Hand rises up, up, over my feet, pulling me.
i know then, living is Their will.
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