(x = space)
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A Sun, a Chariot, a Rocket
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Gee, the myths are done
For a while
New Year’s
Twelfth Night
Imbolc/
Brigid’s Day
Lunar year
The groundhog’s day
I’m going to miss them
Because they
Render truth more interesting
I mean, every day’s a
Saint’s day
Some stories so old they
Might fall apart
Under laser scrutiny
Christopher is one story of those
(and Brigid)
But myths aren’t false,
I mean
That’s conversation
They are stories
To explain
What we don’t know
What is beyond
Us
And our words
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Why does weather
Change?
What is at the center
Of the universe?
What is on the other side
Of life?
Maybe we know more of the
Answers
Now
Maybe we don’t need to give
Gods names
Except where we do give names
Or use the old ones
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The names
And reasons
Myths are still our seasons
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C L Couch
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Photo by Cristofer Maximilian on Unsplash
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February 3, 2022 at 9:30 pm
Wow Christopher!!! I think you will laugh when you read the blog post I just published. Ah….like minds, my friend. For I also today wrote about the myths. As Martin Shaw names them, a radical agency for beauty….
February 3, 2022 at 10:14 pm
Well, now I’m looking forward, especially looking forward, to reading your latest work. Like minds indeed for two along with many who follow myth. Shaw’s definition is moving.
February 3, 2022 at 9:51 pm
I love this poem. I dare the groundhog to see his shadow around here yesterday. We had about six inches of snow. We got the second 12 inches today. If he is smart, he stayed in his home.
February 3, 2022 at 10:12 pm
Oh, my goodness, a foot and a half of snow! Yes, Phil better keep himself and his shadow inside his burrow. And y’all take care.