Like the Lines in the Palm of Your Hand

Every question is a riddle–
we are stuck here in the middle–
borderlined.

But still we keep on asking why,
continue waiting, standing by
for guidelines.

Answers just confuse, pretending
somewhere there exists an ending–
a lifeline.

Deceiving with complexity,
embroidering with fantasy–
we’re traplined.

In silence there are many words
unspoken and more clearly heard–
sibylline.

Grace at dVerse introduced us to a new form called Compound Word Verse. Wow! this was hard. But enough revising–at a certain point you need to let it be.

how she flies

I’ve been working on this collage all week, and I asked the Oracle about it.

moon dances

open nevertime

ask air to let nightflower ghosts
bleed spirits like wild dark
star angels

the rhythm of eternity
wakes the secrets of fools–
voices that devour the hauntings
lingering in the icy oceans
of desire

Also linking again to Earthweal’s moondance.