The rhythm of the water crashed against me and moved through me, foam washing through the marrow. The Wu flamed outward with lion force, the silver metal dug itself and fell strongly through the center, the wood restored balance and sway, the reluctant earth pulled through the spine as in birth, the sky a shower of light and outstretched, sunflower, fingers, the tiger glaring like Blake’s & yet sleek, the mountain conical.
I feared it, do even now as I write this, possessed by the voice. Lord bless my house.