(in the Lakota way of stillness) We are what remains when silence remembers itself. A spark. A breath. A heartbeat between going and returning. The wind carries us not away, but home, to where light bows and becomes prayer. The… Read More »Where the Breath Returns

I walk where the sun folds into the moon, barefoot upon the breath of worlds. The earth hums beneath my step— a low song older than fire. In my cloak, the colors of storms and stillness, woven from prayers of… Read More »The Keeper of the Rainbow Path

Before breath had a name, the Universe cupped its hands and shaped a cradle of light. Within it— a child of dust and song, curled beneath the root of a single rose. No wind, no sound, only the heartbeat of… Read More »The Seed Beneath the Stars