EN EREBOS PHOS
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do i frighten you? do you want me to?

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π™΄πšπšπšŠπš› π™°πš•πš•πšŠπš— π™Ώπš˜πšŽ, πšƒπš‘πšŽ πš‚πš•πšŽπšŽπš™πšŽπš› (πš˜πš›πš’πšπš’πš—πšŠπš•πš•πš’ πš™πšžπš‹πš•πš’πšœπš‘πšŽπš 𝟷𝟾𝟹𝟷)
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β€œOctober was always the least dependable of months … full of ghosts and shadows.”

Joy Fielding
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β€œThe air of October is sweet and cold as the wine of apples,”

Edgar Lee Masters, from Songs & Satires (1916); β€œJohnny Appleseed”
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β€œIf we look to myth, the bee is the ritual creature of a host of lordly ones. To anyone capable of suspending for a moment the cavortings of the rational mind, of accepting myth for what it is β€” not a story or a lie or a corruption of the facts, but the very essence of truth β€” it should need no great inward effort to access their significance.” His eyes bore into me, testing to see if I had yet understood. Then he spoke again, very slowly: β€œIt is a matter, merely, of listening.”

The Shamanic Way of the Bee, Simon Buxton
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