Come Together....

Everything will balance, like warm wind and cold water, like a dream of two bright sorrel horses running through a daisy field, like the birth of spring after the dead of winter.

A fistful of wet hair in the water and wet lips, wet eyelashes, passion mingled with ferocity, the water of the stream chilly in the late dark night. How tightly will teeth close against skin before pleasure turns to pain, and wherein lies the distinction?

Fingertips seek purchase on slick smooth skin, each inch alive with the chill of the water and the fever of touch. The burn from the cold water balances the burn of fleshy desire.

Moss grows thick and lush, tender and soft clinging to hard stone.
Stars float on the surface far below the spangling brilliant distant heavenly lights.

The light comes only from the sky. No clouds, ephemeral formations of both air and water,
mar the surfaces of either purity, but the steamed breath from two bodies rises and dissipates and the churned water where the surface is broken and swirling with bodies contains bubbles that rise and sigh at the surface.

This is where the lines are drawn and the elements seek to balance once again in the dark's pregnant stillness. The tingling prickled bumps of skin rub together abrasive.

Tree frogs and bull frogs sing their intricate far and wee chorus in the reeds amid the rocks as the water slides soundlessly through the crease in the earth.

Gravity from the earth's rotation pulls the water down from the hills to the valley, from the valley to the gorge, from the gorge to the delta, from the delta to the ocean, and there it is lifted again in great billowing clouds and dropped once more in the mountains.

Our heart beats, felt more than heard, loud through the rain against the window pane, keeping time with the rhythm of the moon.

That Ice Maiden - Winter

Slumbertime, The Winter Solstice , the sun stands still in Capricorn.

This is the ecliptic crux when the earth tilts her belly to the sun.
In the northern lands sunrise comes late and sunset comes early,
and the day between is illuminated with long rays of cold silver light.

Celestial coordinates and ancient holy days : The Winter Solstice was here recently, the shortest day and longest night of the year, and it is cause for celebration because it marks the depth of winter this is the middle of winter.

Winter is no old man this year; she winks her thick dark-lashed eyes, arranges her petticoats, and shakes ice crystals like diamonds from her black hat.

She’s not calculating, but is cruel and frigid for all her austere beauty.

Her cold sneer turned the remaining crimson leaves on the oaks into a shade paler than gold, and they fell as winterkill into the gutters.

Dreamtime

Sometimes when I awake in the dark I can feel the physical presence of dreams. Almost if I reach out, I could possibly touch them. They are living entities these dreams, so vivid, so real!!

While the day is not yet dawned and the dogs have not yet come creeping into my room. I can almost hear the dream breathing, can feel the shade of its shadow, and feel as it lays me gently down. The warm bed receives my weight and the dream leaves me to find my waking equilibrium.

Sometimes the visions flit quickly, birdlike, the reverie gone and forgotten. Other times the dream strolls away, great lumbering beast of the alternate slumbering world, glancing over its shoulder with a sigh.

Not all dreams are kind, not all are benevolent, but thankfully I am not often visited by succubae or cruel and frightening monsters. Most of my dreams are about the things I cannot see, or say, or read.

Puzzles I cannot calculate, words I don’t understand. People that I do not know, deeds I would seldom contemplate doing. Some times they are erotic and other times morbid.

In my dreams I work hard to read a line of print, and the visions that follow blow wide the blue horizon, flings the sky to the stars, with a sensation of flying headlong into the depths, until the spaces between the stars become filled with the crystalline souls of those who have first atoned and then suffered judgment.

The entirety of truth barely visible from the corners of my eyes, I can understand the ephemeral and the eternal.

I am weightless and rocketing a hundred thousand miles an hour and then I falter and breathe and settle and slowly open my eyes to see the dull yellow arc of a streetlight shining through the window on the ceiling, and hear a low train song whistling in the night.

Usually it is then that I wake up and realize that I had been dreaming. The act of waking up, is the last breath of a dream, exhaled.

Let me tell you about Heartbreak and loss ....

Tell me your heart doesn’t catch when reminded of loss, and don’t we all try so hard to grow protective barriers against the reminder?

Little walls, armored and reinforced, made of differing degrees of thickness, made of differing substances, depending on possible direction of attack.
A castle constructed in the wake of pain.

There is a strange admiration given to those who have the hardest hearts, and a contemptuous familiarity granted a bleeding heart.

When by all rights and in a just world, the heart unafraid of love and loss should be paid the most respect.

Perhaps because the hardest of hearts at one time had the softest of centers, and was pierced through?
And now disregards and rebuffs any and all possible cruelty. It becomes a reflex action, triggered automatically to protect the organism from pain.

We all want love, and seek it in different forms.

Be it respect or pride or power, but the only true happiness can come from freedom.

If we imprison ourselves to reduce the chances of pain, then we also reduce the possibility of love,
for ourselves and others.

Break these chains that hold you back, let them go.. those memories of a past which isn't your present & can never be your future.

Be free.

The Ring.....

And I said to her:

Yes, it is pretty

But Come , dear, need
you pride yourself
that much on a ring?



TOTALITY during Solar Eclipse 20th June 2002

The Luncheon....

She was clumsy, as he'd never suspected of her.

The smile she tried on trembled like a reflection seen in a puddle; she reached for her water glass and knocked over the salt. Quickly she pinched up a few grains and tossed it back over her left shoulder. This amused him deliciously, and a wry smile erupted on his otherwise stern face.

He wondered : What was she seeing when she looked at him? Did she see the cynic or the romantic fool. Did she guess the depth of his lonliness, or the burgeoning love he felt for the other one.

His focus dropped to her mouth, the firm discreet colour of a shell's interior. A slick of moisture from her last drink glossed her lower lip.
That mouth said, baffling him, "I don't care if you are serious about that other woman. I'm not giving up on us yet!"

He stared at her.

She stared right back, her limpid eyes ablaze....the beginning of a smile touching her eyes, a smile of triumph over her internal doubts.

Around them silverware clinked, conversation ebbed and flowed, surging in his ears like his pulse.

Hope

Japanese KANJI Character for HOPE~