Miller you sleep
There was to be a meeting. A meeting at the Mill. A gathering to give thanks - a homage. They arrived, bought provisions & slept. They began to drum, sing & recite text. They found a small clearing in front of the Mill & hung a sheet. They created a series of songs & text following memory & instinct. From within a story emerged. Three days passed. It was time to prepare the feast. They cooked all afternoon. Everything was ready or at least as ready as could be given the time. The guests, who were actually the family and friends of the caretakers of the land, drifted to the place. There was a meeting, a feast & a giving of thanks. This was not the meeting. There was another encounter. A facing. "Miller, you sleep" he suggested. Who are you? Who is knocking at the door? Crying out for the door to open Without even searching for me. Even though I don't know you I can't bare to leave you. I try to open the door. The door is latched from ...