PacayÅ

Have you ever walked beside the ribbon of fire?

Photo by Taz Tally

And looked into the eye’s iris of mother earth as it slowly flexes, blinking, folding, shutting?

The ground crackling beneath you, threatening to open up and take you in.

Yes, the earth is rearranging herself, painting ribbons of grey over her molten musings.

Photo by Taz Tally

It is her smoldering adolescence erupting determined to show her vigor and vitality against the backdrop of her former fits, now cooled and placid against a radiantly blue sky.

And you are at once on the highest peak, yet privy to the roiling frustrations from her very bowels, the smoke belching from her conical mouth, a symbol of rebirth, renewal, eternity.

You are one with her in a display of your own existence, the fire of your youth fiercely moving through life to be hewn and mellowed by its experiences. 

Until at some point in time, you will rest, making way for a new generation to mold things with the flow of their lava over the landscape, the ritual continuing forever into time.