We turned up to turn upturned earth to dust churned turn by turn until bramble was berm and roots were chutes and the whole mossy tangle was pure possibility. The best kind of rock bottom.

This was a path to wander with intention
With attention to the potential of wood and stone and slope and
Even the rain was a gift to be properly beheld
Mountain made whole from its endless intricate parts
	They let us perceive their subtle interactions through time and commitment to the cause.

Immersion

Protection

In the marking of the land we ward off an encroaching indifference - hardened, polished, self reliant. Ignorant of the old ways and incapable of connection to anything that does not fuel its bursting belly. 

Not here. The sigil we carve will persist so long as there are those willing to trace its shape in ritual.

To sculpt

To witness.