The Book of Weston

and its venom blooms

through your abdomen,

into your heart.

It emerges to tell you something;

its only language is poison

full of stories past and future.

An imprecise but powerful blast.

Fear’s message must be filtered.

It never forgets.

Even before your birth,

fear gathered deep, earthy memories

over millennia and poured them

down into your body.

Ever vigilant, it watches your life

for danger. One small experience

can scar it, and fear heals slow.

If you let it, it will curl

around your mind and not withdraw.

It will forget its place as an advisor.

This serpent must be tamed.

Too much attention given,

too little action, and you will grow

codependent, interlocked.

But with time, movement,

and measured attention, it will learn

the dose that works for you,

that protects and does not harm.

And you will learn that its poison

is a passage through.