“Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.”
—Gustav Mahler
There is always a promise.
A hint of certainty—an offering of control.
Then, a volcano erupts after knowing its status: active.
As covenant, trust and belief mutually inspire.
I know you know this translation and how it must feel
when holding sharp fragments—intergalactic vibes:
to want summertime oceans and prairie skies.
All this suggestion begs for minor mysteries
whose performance is a habit. Asking for discretion,
a hint of sin, and longing that chooses you.
Cache Culture 