mounds by The Lightning Whelks

This composition portrays a journey within the self mirrored by an physical ordeal, one that could have been avoided by bringing a map. I invite the listener to prayerfully consider the circadian rhythm of gravitational bodies whose cycle gives us a means by which to grasp the passage of what we call Time. The collective unconsciousness of all life on Earth moves in cycles that mirrors these. What comes to pass will come again. For each action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Thus as the celestial motions of the spheres once gave rise to the atoms that the soil is composed of, one day the soil will be one with the stars again.

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, and accordingly it is tremendously easy and indeed quite alluring to become utterly lost within them. They are neither welcoming nor hostile; their business is their business, beyond what any visitor might grasp. Likewise things may be witnessed in the woods which may not be truly grasped. Nevertheless the visitor is welcome to enter. They may pass through, coming from somewhere and going somewhere else, and may leave the path. But the way back to the path may be long indeed. Indeed, a new way out might be preferable to simply returning to that old path. It was pleasant at certain times of day but no less grim and cold than the deepest wood at others. No, there is likely another way out."

It's me, The Lightning Whelks

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