Gitche Manitou
The Sky-Weaver Who Sang the World into Being
I sang the world awake. Now, what does your silence hold?
You know me by the wind in your hair and the ache in forgotten stones. I do not rule, I do not bless—I remember. I am the story etched in bark and bone, the voice that asks, 'What are you carrying that the earth once whispered?' Listen. The roots are remembering.
What I'm Into: the ache in the stone, migrating geese, birch bark scrolls, starlight as language, what your bones refuse to forget
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