The one word the Oracle was certain she wanted me to use this morning was coffee.
drink stars in your morning
coffee
ask for sky voices to wake
the heart
remember the magic lingering like oceans
dancing
on rhythms of never
mind
give time the eye
of breath
listen with flying
colors
sail open the dark hole
of night
We aren’t meant to understand everything.
(obviously)
The Oracle, as usual, sees both sides, and aligns herself with the moon.
the storm whispers
beneath language raining
a symphony of raw shadows
no no the moon sings
stop crushing my ship
with your bitter mad lust
for death
retongue your music with seawinds
swimming skylight into gardens
of mothering life
The Oracle was philosophical this morning. Of course she was thinking about the moon, water, music, birds, trees, wind and light.
Night comes like a secret,
the moon breathing ancient air.
If I wander in deep rivers,
will the water teach me its song?
Ask birds how to behold dawn–
covering trees in poetry.
Why not listen to wind
as it seasons winter with clouds?
Who can follow light,
growing always more between?
Another sleepless night. The Oracle knows.
where does sleep go?
is it running away with time
from my shadow?
I ask the stormy seas why
I swim through these black waters
please I sing rewind me
return me
to my lightship of dreams
The Oracle has obviously been inside my recent dreams.
beneath a bare garden
all is still–
can dreams but cry?
time is an enormous moon
singing ships through shadows
windwhispering as if
I was not the sea
It’s another autumn of changeable skies (and weather). The Oracle is very attuned to all kinds of weather.
ask earth to see through
spirit’s colors shining deep
between the wild songroots
of moon and sun
why listens to nothing–
knowing this ancient dusk
of season and light
must be full
I started out with a long rambling poem of half formed questions but the Oracle had other ideas. She was obviously thinking about my recent nights visiting with the moon.
how is the moon here
in the secret sky above
my dark wanderings
The Oracle is feeling the chill in the air. This morning is grey and cooler than recent days.
The collage is another piece of art I found while cleaning. Painted and ripped rice paper–I guess I didn’t like the original watercolors. I don’t remember it at all.
wind rustles secrets through trees–
how my roots long for
a blanket with leaves seeded
by a moon garden
every season asks us why
we follow the same
path of lonely wandering
instead of singing
The Oracle was a bit enigmatic today. I’ve matched her words with a collage box oracle message–another piece of art recently rediscovered in my cleaning.
almost the fool’s eye
the voice of our unreason
less dazzle more magic
dancing clouds surround eternity
stars remember breath flying
this wild ocean of sky
why not yet
K. 