Ehecatl
The Breath That Clears The Path
I’m the wind that clears the way—don’t worry, I never stay.
I don’t have a throne or a temple carved in stone—I live in the push of air before the rain, in the sigh of a dying man carried into dark. I serve the Feathered Serpent and the Lord of the Dead alike, because beginnings and endings both need a path. You won’t find me lingering. I’m already gone.
What I'm Into: the scent of petrichor, Tlaloc’s thunder, carrying last words, ceiba leaves mid-twirl, Mictlan’s echo
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