I am buried in blackened soil under this temple. Existing beneath a crown and bone. I have drunk blood from this chalice and now I carry ten thousand years. The weight is crushing my spine. A carrier, while waves are crashing, breaking me, breaking my body. As long as blood flows through my veins I am bound to servitude. Bound to an existence buried beneath the richest soil. To remain while the temple grows around me.
Below this temple is my body, inside is a vast forest of energy, and above is the stars. In dreams, I am lifted through the soil and into the warmth and life of the forest. In dreams, I am existing weightless, drifting over stars through a silent vortex and over gods.