Deaf As Sanctuary Dust

"Therapeutic relationships are made of healing voices retelling stories, strings of hopeful light reweaving faith in future healthy climates." Writes the aging Muse in her fusing bodymind for future integral love stories As she returns, without pen or paper, to her safest sanctuary since childhood, her local public library. Coming home to all these voices written in volumes big and small, wise through silly, with faith in industrious publishers hoping to invest in valued commercial art. She soon feels dark immensely dense without precedent wrong, Threatened by what, exactly? Silence of mortal fossils, past corporate liberal and conserving voices over-written and under-told, competing for too quickly dwindling immortality. Surrounded by unsafe and temporary stories, homes, shelters, epic icons of more and more, faster and faster fading voices, some quickly expired minor meteors of flashing light, while great classics, from orthodox scripture parables to heuristically wild pretense, flow out of culture's conserving conscious grasp more slowly disenlightening hope and faith in permanent living climates, housing, communities, species, planets retelling stories musing visitors in formerly safe linguistic law and ordered plots and spots, WinWin promises in an otherwise LoseLose world of storied information decaying toward disformation. Ancient Muse's newly desecrating sanctuary now ages with deep dense degenerating dust, rusty voices of old enslaved and devalued stories which, if newly naked written down, would be ignored far more than revisited as no longer competitive in today's transitionally amusing market for entertaining throw-away great escapes from hoary musing not amusing inside voices. She leisurely longingly strolls to reweave through Poetry and Religion, Liturgical Cooking and Nutritious Fiction, then Nurturing Philosophy and Healthy Arts, Crafts, light and dark, and LeftBrain dominant Biography, Children's DeepLearning Literature and Earth's cooperative/competitive enculturing History. As she passes each densely grasping voice begins to murmur until her inside potential voices echo through her dying ears and hopeless bleeding eyes still belonging to creative surprise. Looking and listening for hope beyond her own too soon demise of childhood for reweaving what this Trickster racket has not uniquely improvised into competing climate voices originally intended as cooperative multicultural chorus reweaving weathered stories borrowed and wounded, bruised blue yet mortally true, green threads of hope still sanctuary secured in ultra-violet musing tapestries of dense dark dreaming brighter future voices Reclaiming therapeutic relationships are made from healing voices retelling stories, strings of hopeful climate light reweaving faith in future wealth of health.