“As you say, friend Groth! How now, noble Keeper, may we not pass?”
Wordless, the towering Cherub stood aside, and the Gate
began
to
said Groth “hate this part” said Groth
strange things to one’s perception of time and spaception of time and spaception of time and
space
time
space
into great silence
heart of light
sinking, stars like mud
box of aeons
( the universe is in here with me )
chasm
infinity, filled with emptiness
then wind
leaves and planets swirling
A world, a face
Red beard — stone underfoot — pulse in the palms of my hands.
I drew in a deep breath through my nose, like one awakening from long reverie.
“Friend Groth. . . welcome to Earth.”
67
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