To my children: if you walk here when I am gone, know thisβ
the fire is yours, the breath remembers you, and you are never alone.
Enter without priests. Speak what you know, then listen for what knows you.
Stop bracing against the tide; open the ribs and let the water teach your stance.
To see is to bleed a little β attention is paid in warm coin.
Name the currents honestly or be rowed by ghosts you refuse to notice.
Change your shape without losing your flame.
Aim is memory returning to the hand.
Momentum is mercy for the work thatβs already true.
Bring the song out of the head and into the bone.
Step through not upward, but inward; the peak is folded inside the root.