I slept to the sound of clanging keys.
Everywhere I turned, I could hear . . .
Then I remembered, I am in the Lady
Hekate cabin. She being Goddess of
the Three-way Crossroads and Keeper
of the Keys.
I grew up with the house key on a string
'round my neck. In time, the key to the
post office box added to the weight on
that precious twine. Obviously, I had my
own tiny key to my diary hidden away;
never, ever to be found!
Over the years in adult land, those rings
of keys kept growing . . . one for hearth
and home, yet another for the vardo and
travel trailer, not to forget my world of
books, precious library that it is.
And then came the verbiage . . . key to
my heart, keys to the kingdom, the secret
key, key to understanding, key to solving
the problem . . . key to knowledge, good
and evil. Everywhere I turn, keys raining
down . . .
Good thing I awoke or I would be covered
in bruises!
everywhere i turn
raining keys from skies above
never to be free
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