When the pink blossoms turn...
and you lift your mask,
we can slip through the shades and angles...
to find our true heart.
[The smallest of proverbs...ring true ring true...]
The lights are all out tonight...
and we have chosen to stand alone,
to step into the grey beneath the wires...
and stare into the storm,
we hear it coming through the ground...
a tremendous rumbling threat,
of fractured clouds and tearing heat...
the vicious suffocation of weighed down sweat,
we bear to ill...
until the sky breaks apart,
and we fall within....
as the acid washes away with the wet,
singe this old city black...
as it crumbles and frays into another kind of life,
'Can we have your heart?'
The stones whisper to you...
'Can it we devour?'
The alley cats hiss too...
You find your way to the wharf by the sea,
where sea monsters eat the dredges of fear...
where coral chokes daylight from the reef,
and pale creatures swim through our dreams...
Leap up from the water,
and across the rooftops with me,
fly above the city dust...
Feel the ice hardening on the power line,
and the bronze cooling in the rust...
the hearts we have lifted up,
and a small story we have to tell...
whispered to hidden ears above the arch,
where shadows screech and forgotten thoughts lurk...
There was a creature destined to die,
and a moth that wanted to live...
I remember a wing being crushed against the ground,
and a heart slowing its' breath...
I know its eyes were bright,
and that the murk upon its' wings hid colour...
that a moth is really just,
the song devoid of image...
a silent symphony,
called Shudder.
The meaning of this has been lost to us...
and we forget the shape of our hands.
The width of our heart...
and the length of our breath.
I have rung the bell....
so that we can pass forward into the river,
and find our shadows amongst the depths...
so we can see our blood let from the touch of cold stones,
and feel in us alive...
something we were before.
We run barefoot through ice-heavy fields...
and through dew-eaten logs we sneak,
to find slumbering beings...
old as the earth,
old as time...
whispering through the twigs,
We see the One...
We hear the One,
and we know the One...
who calls us on,
through the amber glades...
and always-dark brooks,
where eyes peer up through water reeds and gloom...
secret secretes its weight on us,
as we swarm to places further...
The rain is heavy,
the rain is heavy...
it makes for us a bed between the branches that sway,
as the grey clouds close in tight...
and the cold wind reaches through,
to touch and caress your rib cage with icy fingers...
Sweep us away and beyond,
what time has decided for us...
so we can remember again the hows and whys of our reflection,
take us down to rest...
against bare sand and glades,
where small trails lead to small shells...
and the smallest of homes for our tears,
sent away from here.
To beyond There....
Hi There dear others...
Time is falling around me...and time is stopping. It's peculiar...the last day I spent in Airlie. My alarm clock broke so I decided to wait the night out. I remained awake for over a day...and it's incredible what my mind dragged up for me to think about. So many thoughts and ideas and theories and possibilities...endless and unceasing. Eventually you start to see a light, but one that is wholesome or not sometimes escapes me.
I'm also reading Duma Key by Stephen King...and it has made me think of Lindeman again...again. So many ghosts on that island.
I hope you are finding a good light in your own lives...
Much Love,
Miss CLScarlett xx
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