The Oracle is always attuned to all kinds of weather.
but be as a mother tongue
mist petaled sky whispered
shadowing light
with the wind and the moon
never let death stop time
or still the blood as it sings
watch life madly raw aching
like a symphony of storms
borne inside the language of dreams
K. 
Sound advice from the Oracle today!
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Always. thanks Ingrid.
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The Oracle knows.
We both had words and songs. I hope the storms die down!
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Yes me too. Thanks Merril.
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Storms and blood, wind and whispering too. Our poems are both wild, but I think yours runs the freer.
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Perhaps it’s because I feel so unstructured right now.
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I know what you mean. Never have there been more people yelling their unwanted opinions, and never has everything felt so adrift.
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Adrift…exactly.
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Thanks, Kerfe. I read this a few times, very well done.
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Thanks Robbie.
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Excellent poem and the message is one that bears repeating! Death will not win!
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Thanks Muri. We must help the circle to continue.
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awesome Kerfe!
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Thanks Kate!
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