Fermentation – a Kemetic Prose-Poem

I sit in an earthen jar, waiting.  My hair is liquid gold, then amber rich as resin, then deep and mysterious with hints of emmer wheat.  I bubble and sigh in the darkness.  My life has purpose; I become round and rich and full in anticipation.

It is quiet here, within myself, surrounded by my own growth and contemplation.  Fear of being something more comes and goes.  I talk to myself, holding endless dialogues and debates back and forth.  Sometimes I believe everything and sometimes I believe nothing and sometimes a tantalizing hint lingers out of reach.

My shell is earthenware and cool to the touch but within, I am on fire.  I long to crack and break free even as I know the time is not right.  I weep as I ripen; I am the perfect offering.

I am a thousand of all good things.


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