Lion Head Mesa butterflies

her declaration of beauty would be the seal upon it. so it was with that that he rolled it up tightly. the scent of it was fresh and holy.

a confession is reached into his ears. he wonders at once if her question moments ago had been more of a direction. if she meant to mold him into priesthood. it is hard to explain — it will come to her in time, he thought even if he did not say. she would grow into her bestowed divinity.

i — it is the first time his voice feels tightened. he did not think she meant this to be a test but it felt like one. it is said on the day of my birth, my mother cried for Shezmu. i believe i carry His name in my heart in my prayers. but he looked for any kind of recognition of this lesser God.