Cosmic Birth


She walked into the crystalline night below an inky sky her thoughts following her like giant insects who come out only when old furniture is moved. The apparitions that stalked her, breathing their hot voices close to her ears, were ever present. It was like the dead air sound inside her head when the pressure gets too much; or maybe someone just over the other side was reaching out, trying to say something, but she couldn’t make out the words. A rushing, like the blood in her veins, pushing and pulsing. They follow her, so very near.

Where was she going? And where had she just been? The night air felt like a slap, but it was a sting of stars blasting her awake.  Had she been asleep? Walking through her life, but not conscious. Faces, distorted with mouths that spoke at her, trying to swallow her and eat what she was, would swim out of the darkness, grinning. Often, she would find herself in a place she wouldn’t recognize, naked and unaware how she had gotten there. Just like on this stark night.

The mirrored hall of reality was a twisted place. It’s maze of unending pathways looking back upon itself reflected nothing and everything. Where did she start or end? The mystery of the beginning was unknown. So, she would keep moving because stopping would mean pain. The grace of fluidity kept her whole, in one piece, so she wouldn’t shatter into a million shards and fly off into the universe.

It was understood that this was a lonely place. The voices may speak, but they would never hear.  She would always walk alone on roadways unfamiliar and distant from where she knew she belonged. There would be a mist that would drift in around her and hold her like a baby, clouding the world around her and making the edges soft. But this made others wary of her, because when she stepped out of the fog, she saw with great clarity and knew when the others weren’t true. And this made her different.

So, it kept her walking; away from it all. It kept her separate, even though the voices followed. She kept going forward, step by step. The ghosts floated close by, but the cool, authentic air as she walked kept her present.

And as she walked, her head tilted toward the dotted evening sky. She thought about the stars, planets and the universes. Mostly about eternity. How it all stretches out on and on. It started before her and will go on after she is long gone. And how she is following its call back home.

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Poem: Shooting Star


Star shoot beautiful night

Brilliant sky hearts flight

Across the world

Dreams are curled

In lovers beds

With separate dreads

But with the arc

Of light embark

Connect their souls

And fills deep holes

So no matter where

The dark may stare

Magic comes and opens doors

Makes things fly and soar

And when the end is near

I will want you here

To see the star

So far

So far

Poem: Dirty Wind


Born on a cloud

then

blown by the dirty wind

and caught in the corners

of an unnamed road

Picked up again and again

thrown into a hailstorm of frozen

pebbles

that bang together

but later

melt

turning fluid

then eventually

evaporate into nothing

and disappear within

the world

Poem: Lying Down


Once young

peeking to see

wispy seeds blow

close-up on

green tufts of hair

while frantic

insects buzz

in summers air

While watching

big blue windy white

marching puffy shapes

swim, float and fly

slowly by

Peering through finger blinds

sun shadow so cool

paints silhouettes

then splits its billow

making miniscule

circle spot dots

to dance blind before

shuttered thoughts

In pastures tiny forest

looking up

with loving eyes

adore

****

Now old

graying curls tossed light

upon pillowed crib

Staring up

at cryptic crack

its hieroglyph speaking truth

of lost and boundless youth

Lying still

now here inside

blocked against wheat

and birds

the sky is covered

with plastered paint

spine pressed upon

the bed

But in the mind

the world is there

floating overhead

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gloom


Is there light ahead? It’s been raining non-stop for days here with no end in sight. This doesn’t help if ones interior landscape already feels a bit gloomy. The wet, dreary weather only serves to solidify any creeping negativity. 

Even my furry friend feels unlike himself and ignores a game of ball. He’s too busy hiding from the thunder. 

Here’s wishing for sunshine and brighter days ahead.