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
The Oracle, once again, discarded all my original words and replaced them with her own. And perhaps not so strangely I found a collage I did a few weeks ago that fit perfectly.
ask the blue wind why
it cries as if nothing sails
on moonshadowed seas
we sleep in the languages
of water whispered dreams
I had written my own poem earlier in the week, but since the anniversary of 9/11 is on a Saturday, I also consulted the Oracle. We are both feeling the shadows and the ache.
ghosted, these
ruins—shadows left
imprinted
on this day–
each returning resurrects
the ache of absence
beneath blue skies
death shows up
raining red
the day lives raw
our dreams ache
with rust and blood
language is shadowed
as if love
will never be recalled
music whispers
on the wind
through still light
More questions from the Oracle.
stars awake fireborn
breathing vast ferocious joy
into dazzled dark
where is the door of always?
who parses the voice of time?
After I post my birds on memadtwo tomorrow, I’m taking a break from the internet for a few weeks. Enjoy the rest of your summer!
Another mostly sleepless night. But the Oracle sees beauty in those hours too. And how else would I have seen the sliver of the moon?
And look closely on the right–there’s Saturn too.
who is this self
sailing slowly through the dark
always away
blue with haunted oceans
flying from the ghosts of time
breathless as the dance
of skyholes
lingering in starfire
awakening the open eyes
of this goodnight
K. 