Little pot, found at random.
Tucked beneath the flotsam of retail's faded lilies.
You've become so much more than mere candelabra.
You are now my Anchor to the gateway of the Gods.
Simple clay vessel born of fire and fitted in steel you hold the center of my hearth.
Shine bright little secondhand store treasure.
And keep the embers of my passions safe.
Deeply hidden in velvety folds,
Light and water create illusion.
Down the rabbit hole to the place of Ancestors.
Sacred tunnel let me drift to your bottom.
There lies the River Man and Grey Gates, And home of Fear primordial.
Let me but hear your water's voice so I'll quake not.
Let me see the truths buried.
Let me rise from your fathoms with a hard won kernel of completeness.
