Bearing Water for
Brigid
Sketches for a water vessel
--
united, bottle and message elide on
waves.
Voice of Brigid calls.
All who hear: Imagine.
Exposed to wind, to grit, to
rain,
shifts of vibration,
rock faces erode.
Vessel
Designated fixed space
Seaworthy container
Conveyor through fluid
separates
fluidity
Creates place, surface to
paint
tableaux for amusement,
diffusion of emotion,
beatitude against foment of dueling
farce.
Harsh edges polished,
pure shades
blend in the dark.
Brief infusion
of giddy illusion
glows
just enough to guilefully
entice.
Sparkling Neural net
smiles,
a secret
clue revealing
purpose, meaning;
engages
wild eternal child,
ages' flamboyant fool,
Glorious
Muse
(Voice pours from within)
A wound is a sacred vessel.
Pain carves into flesh
sense memory;
carries the seed
of its own demise.
Sentience
engulfed in life
learns anew to be whole.
Wounded with the potential for
wisdom
when eyes are are pried
from seeping, sucking,
suffering
aching to censure what future we
admire.
Redefine the schizm.
This wound is our project.
To heal, discover the
vision;
realign the seam to fit
self-framed landscape.
Let loose that genie of
desire.
Ride rushing blood streams.
Build a roaring pyre of
grief,
insane belief in wrath-filled
deities.
Revile that old refrain: "life is pain"
or a game
to be lost.
No Faustian bargain.
Just a
rambling adventure
daring
to explore
essence of ecstasy.
Don't wait for the rest to
see
and demur.
Stretch your sail.
Take sight of your guiding
star.
The only failure is
self-denial
in favor of the vile lie
that pain is destiny
instead of faithful friend
lending energy
for change.
Slice vivid memories.
Exult in the tastes, the
textures.
Enliven your way.
In the end
the vessel breaks.
There the Goddess stirs.
Scrying
on the Moon
~twilight of the goddess, call to
song aery dancing, lady fair your fiery trance rewinds our souls; enjoy these
offerings of fancy: all art is yours ~
By sibylline light
images I recognize,
creviced captures of my
life.
I know her judgment to be my
own.
"Nourished by Moon
rivers
mythical cavern blooms
unseen by sunlight
glow green."
Thus she sets the scene;
becomes the prophecy.
"Purest white simplicity
curved to suggest
fragility
faith fed maiden ready for
plucking,
given in bondage to womanly
woes,
hard rows to hoe
for tight human hug through
crying of night.
Fate of mortal soldiers, sacrificed
to lust.
Seeking relief, beg for the boon of
drama
high adventure
sneaking into sad hotels
for a fix or a tumble.
Laughs,
deadly play,
danger, a real chance.
Barefoot in the snow
icy roads
winds so strong
I could not make you
hear.
I thought you were my
destiny.
Crazy thoughts, far from
clear;
but I believed
song lyrics from Saturnine
deities
would not lie, leave me
dying, fading into winter's
grey
drifting clouds,
endless sorrow endured for
naught.
Lost on this careless
corner,
dreaming of oblivion, intent on
visions
like rain
tapping against
eternity's
vast windowpane.
Scenic serenity.
Nature's gradations of
green
soothe tired eyes,
trembling nerves, throbbing
veins.
Slivers of moonlight
reflect,
disperse through refrains, unearth
secrets
embedded in song
effervescing through cool pure
air
cleansing the uprising
nestling
set aflame
resurrected
tempered mettle,
pure, wise, tested
engorged with the will
to rise"
Goddess’s
Way
With passion!
Outpouring elixir fills our mythic
spring.
Sparkling flame of peace abides
within,
licks battle wounds.
Not ignorant fools;
no pleas for altruist
beliefs.
Relief of hunger completes us.
No cunning deceivers could ignite
malice,
steal our good.
Unbalanced need reaches to heal
through
magical interchange.
Energies when well-purposed,
understood,
replenish, undiminished.
Why meanly measure
scores in morality play at “who
deserves”?
Healthful work, flowing
contribution,
bestows focal point for cyclic rain’s
reward.
Fortune’s gift, this benevolent
wishers’ well,
replete Goddess
blessing.
Sacred vessels,
dip in for contentment, good will,
joyful
self-regard.
This is not belief or even
knowing.
This is breath of awe in
motion.
Bride’s
Novitiate strong and true, my
Lord.
Trained to service as is due, my
Lord.
Sweep snowy threshold; chop roots
for stew,
my Lord.
Domicile clean, tidy,
warm.
Hearth fire charmed; wicks ready
to light at dark’s release.
Kitchen enchantment, smells that
spell succulent sup.
Holiday breads, hunt’s victory,
fruit sweet and spiced, preserved
against winter’s insurgency.
Stalwart, luscious vintage ever
replenished to
toast-raising cups.
Fragrant pipe passed ‘round;
copious wine.
Feast sumptuously satisfied.
Night of dance
with hallowed candles cast in
magic.
Rhythms wax and wander, discover
heroic tales, grand to recount.
Bawdy poetry regales, playful
competition gains momentum.
Energy escalates, fans profound
merriment.
Family, beyond embarrassment,
drunk on high spirits and love.
Goddess blesses, gently kisses,
wafts through
artful
celebration.
