The Way, the Truth, & the Light
The way, the truth, and the light
(Ancient Sumeria)
The way—
a worn line of footprints
between reeds and altar,
swept by the hem of dusk.
The truth—
a jar sealed in pitch,
its contents forgotten
but sacred.
The light—
not the sun,
but a flicker in the priestess’s hand
as she lifts the lamp
without trembling.
They ask for signs.
The gods answer
in wind over ziggurat stone
and the hush before
grain falls.
Pilgrimage
Dust marks the old path—
no map, only what returns
to the feet each dawn.
Vessel
Truth sleeps in the dark,
wrapped in silence and resin—
still, the jar is full.
The Flame
Hands do not tremble
when belief is in the flame,
not the flint or oil.
Oracle
No thunder, no sign—
only wind through broken stone
and one stalk bending.
Rite of Bread
She walks toward nothing,
but carries the ancient names
as if they were bread.
