The detritus of death is evident in a scattering of feathers in the mud, a rotting coyote, a raven's silent corpse. Light dances on the walls and the rocks glisten as if from inner fire. Oranges and reds intertwine around shadowy projections, swirling like the brushstrokes of some mad artist who does not know the meaning of enough. The glow reflects onto the opposite walls in a more subtle repetition of the same. An occasional shaft strikes a pool and is thrown into an undulating series of light streaks on the lower rocks.
Nothing is constant here.
Ephemerality is the rule. Dark to light to dark. Once you have walked this canyon's length, your soul is captured as surely as the polished juniper logs wedged between the walls overhead. You have walked this canyon in your dreams and you must walk among these shadowy glowing forms again. Wind dancing cottonwood Maidenhair seep Red sandstone bowl Black varnish streaks Deerflies biting behind the knees as sacred datura unfolds to the sun Where desert meets the swamp.