Two Eyes Cenote Woma

eset begins to speak and stark is still as the birthing dawn around them, holding her golden gaze as even the shadows hold their breath. he is soldier still, bare before her and the gods, ready to follow the new life path set before him.

a small shudder slithers down his spine as she speaks of being buried. it makes sense of course, death must come before birth. to be reborn, he must first die. an ego death. a spiritual death. stark must be killed so that a new man might rise in his place.

a sealing of past — history and pain and insecurities deep into the depths of his own personal tomb never again to be found.

her hands guide sacred waters over each shoulder, her touch warm, the sacred lotus waters cool.

i am.