She still grows through cracks in the pavement. Each petal of her wholeness blossoming from a sensual vortex of dusted gold. Calling in her melissae to pollinate the Earth with a message of her return.
I was a child living with an unfathomable free spirit mother and was uncomfortable with Bowie’s colourful strangeness. Part elegant alien, part harlequin he looked like something out of a renaissance Alice in Wonderland court.
Communion is not when we reach out to another, join them in their space, dump the contents of our soul and lose ourselves. Communion is holding so strongly to the self that we are concentrated essence moving through space.