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Mythsticks and Storyseeds

Once upon a moment that slipped out of time...

I awoke slowly, uncertain if I should

rising to the occasion

wondering what the story was to be 

alone in the dark, I asked to receive

looking out into the void 

distant eyes peering back

Venus was there waiting 

a beautiful alluring beacon

in the twilight betwixt and between

where uncertainty seems certain

as darkness births the dawn

the solar winds brush my cheeks

a sense of calm washes over

in the promise of a new day

yet with this rising light 

something goes missing

for the darkness still tugs

awaiting its eventual call

Venus invites me 

with her last waking breath

to take it all in, breath deep 

remember with each exhale

letting out what once was in

with this unexpected gift

a seed fell from the tree

then another, and still more

until I couldn’t help but notice

who are these two birds

one eating from the fruits of life

while the other watches 

in contemplation, wondering

I called out asking

who are you two

whence they replied

I am Gnosis, tweeted one

I Agonia, chirped the other

yet this made no sense to me

these simple sounds

then let us introduce you 

to our friends Logos and Eros

to confuse you even more they replied

chuckling as only birds can

it was Eros who welcomed me first

a warm embrace was her gift

the mother of love

the grounding of presence

Logos then stepped in

uttering something unclear

what was this word I was to hear

this notion of mind out there

suddenly I felt off balance

teetering and twisting

for what seemed anew

was everything I knew

these seeds, the gifts of two birds

dizzying as digested

sent my head spinning

in every which way

Eros embraced me again

ensuring I wouldn’t fall

yet Logos prodded and poked

with all his might

to keep me off balance

the sun soon set

as certain as the day, night befell

Venus appeared once again

this time at twilight

showing the way

she winked at me

and said…

sister Earth

who am I 

but we

in your minds eye

you will find

the resources to grasp

to question all you can

be still at night

awake with the light

feel the rhythms 

create the rhymes

let go and wander

this is the poetry of life

your path is to ponder

The last I remember was being lost in the sea of cacophony

The horizon barely visible

Swirling in a backcasting eddy

If it weren’t for the 2birds I would have never made it to shore 

They sensed it first, the sirens call from the island led us all here 

Story-temptress she be entangled in tellings 

Neither fish nor foul, I crawled from this storied womb 

Grasping at threads

Hold on she whispered, 

“its your way in and out again” 

The last I remember was being lost in the sea of cacophony

“Look-out” squawked one of 2birds, “look-in” cooed the other

There they perched one on each shoulder 

my back against the trunk of this ancient tree of life 

The ground cool and damp seeping into my bones

The will of must hinting mythelium

Each leaf a page carrying a sense of storyseeds and mythsticks

I do remember you both, you’ve come back to me

My worry you wouldn’t return took me asunder

I’ve counted on you both for generations but fear 

my agility of thought and lack of memory 

at the end of the day would lead me astray

Story-temptress she be cloaked in will and desire

Waiting on the shores of noofoundlands

A full spectrum beacon beaming dreams ashore

Luring us with longings and lore

Huginn and Muninn how good to hear your names once more

Here together in the noosphere

This commons of mind

Threads of thoughts

Mythelium in the making

Reminding us from whence we came

A storied pair of tales

Re-membering the murmuration 

To be intuitively in accord


The Eleprocon Chronicles

Eleprocon mythOS 2birds BEAMing noosphere

Thanks for jumping into Mark’s Myth! Subscribe for free if you’re curious.

Dear Leah and storied peoples of the School for Sacred Storytellers,

Once again I show up in gratitude. 

Little did I realize many years ago how meaningful it would become to find a sense of place under your wing while the School for Sacred Storytelling started to take flight. 

I can also say, little did I realize how meaningful it would be to find in that place a sense of community who were there to share, receive and co-create in an encouraging and playful way. 

I also didn’t really know why I was there at first other than I felt there was a story willing itself to come out of me over the years. Its a long time to have carried a story since 1979. 

Fortunately the story temptress tapped me on the virtual shoulder luring me into realms of learning, probing, sensing, listening.

Now I can say that the years of writing prompts, drawing exercisers, open mics, mentors, teachers and elders have given me the courage to bring Mark’s Myth to light.

During this journey of discovery, bits and pieces, artifacts of thoughts and stories have found their way into different forms. It was during the recent Story Summit the school hosted that tickled my 2birds to spread their wings.

Please accept this gift, this medley of mythOS, for the School for Sacred Storytellers in kind for all you have gifted me.


Mark’s Myth
Mark’s Myth
Mark Smith