Wise Me Make to Answer

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Am  I  dreaming?

I  do  still  often  and  stood  have  I.

On  a  journey  I  am  this.   Eternally  excited,  indeed,  will be I!

A  saddle  makes  two  sides  and  possible  for  many  to  travel.

Tiny thee, into Up gathered clouds.

A  new  fauna  I  call,  fashioning  that  which  now  I  can  see.

My  heart  of  details  glowing.

Divination Portrait

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The gift of the vulture,

dance dear light over and through the tree tops.

The self as a song meant to part the veils of time.

Glow dear embers, flashing and loving to the beat of illusions loosely changing.

Dissolve dear demons to the vulture spraying her breath over the river of life.

Aflame dear shore of our Mother’s birthing so we may start again.

Release now the spirit’s that may linger in the smoke, hypnotized.

 

Divination Portrait

divination-portrait

The serpent and the rose,

through divination I come as the flower of the pumpkin bloodline.

I see the thorns of my rose, where she has taken hold of me.

I see the cords of the pumpkin gourd make heavy my blood;

love!  it’s natural and profound simplicity aggravated by complexity.

I feel myself, resting on the ideals of tranquility and peace,

allowing for the slow and steady growth of my ability to hear god. Once again.

Pause Now, Take Still

Do you see where my fire went

caught cascading down to the ocean floor

where tiny lights lay flickering along cool waves.

 A note breezes suredly past my open ears

to receive the answer to my question.

Pause now, take still.

“The gloomy sink that drains my discarded hair.

My skin laying limp under a growling owl made of many colors

rubs my sore shoulders that no longer share

the burdens of all that has past.”

'The crackle of the Moon, at Night, in the Winter'.2016.
‘The Crackle of the Moon, at Night, in the Winter’.2016.

Begin to Glow

Everywhere in fragrant France the ivy grows.

Everywhere on stone white walls there is a rose.

And all her gardens can be walked between her low growth rows.

And all the while her dream springs from a serpent round her toes.

Is it her boat? Too grand to tow?

Her wandering travelers weariness begins to show.

As she sings for love in a cage she does not know,

Take me love! Please begin to row!

Please take this love and let these shallow walls begin to glow.”

(ode to France)

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