Taking Advice from the Blue Crow - a shield in arms good fellow, a shield in arms...

 

 



 

 A sensation of light,

black fur hovering over your stomach in the coldest nights,

old fads and yowies,

doors opening within,

the way a night could expand beyond lines and proper things,

the Writing DreamTime,

times when we were so cold that not a breath of fire existed,

lonely trails,

and whales,

searching for hidden things amongst the tree roots,

shifting shapes and shadows,

or the cascade glow-warmth,

Of a different kind,

a dragon kind,

Either it was warm enough for magic and faeries to exist -

daemons too -

or freezing enough that it created a beauty around you and others,

muddy earth pounded by rain,

squeezing between your toes,

hair saturated,

skin cold-blown,

eyes open wider and wide and wider,

at the swirling greys high above,

we forget,

we reminisce,

we move on,

though time and fate does not forget us,

we are lead by the guiding thread,

and I can feel them,

the forces and creatures at work around my cells and path,

and the paths of others,

chattering,

and consoling,

and arranging.

 

 

My dear good friends,

I do greet you...

to a merry old bunch of hollar-ballooo,

we sit to the right,

we sit to the left,

but please do not escape your quest...

I welcome you in to the FilmTheEatre of Olde,

you shall glimpse many things between its walls...

but perhaps more than anything,

you shall learn to stand tall...

Many theatres I have known for a time,

when I was very young I'd dance in a feast...

that would occur over the year,

and create music in the air...

an open-sky theatre you might call it as we say,

a night-air theatre to chase the blues away...

another I happenstance's across well deep below the ocean,

Its' curtains swayed to an un-felt breeze,

while the emptiness inside -

the power also-

was tangible in taste and memory too,

then another I did find...

in my Writing DreamTime,

a Theatre of ages past...

that I had dreamt of too,

long ago...

 

 

A hallway of souls,

perhaps it was...

but more than that it was the Red Mirror Room,

Glance into its mirrors...

to reveal your true face,

and admire the velvet red curtains...

that hide them from clean sight,

a small empty place it is by fact...

but a theatre it is so,

and I urge everyone to go...

But nevertheless how it happens,

you are in a theatre of your own...

quite a charming,

albeit frightful place...

where the judges love to break you down and see you shine,

we are toys for their strings...

but we dance so beautifully,

and in the end there are rewards waiting for thee...

Come to our club,

come to our banquet...

and perhaps we shall lead you the right way,

but then again maybe...

you are sold to the Sinister Meeting Room,

and have answered the call before...

and so cannot enter,

the Film TheEatre...

but hasten now not,

there is still some time...

and all that is left,

is to wiggle free of that chain...

jump over to our side,

there really is no difference...

in the end we're just the other face of the same coin,

between our darkness and their light.

 

Lately, you know...

I've bought my own electrical bike,

she is a beauty...

who I have named Jaqueline,

sometimes I become scared that her name will become Betsy...

sometimes she seems to want to be called Betsy,

but Jaqueline is her name...

But driving her from work and back everyday,

is like a mind-numbing experience...

that shakes and rattles away all my deep dark thoughts,

to allow me some relief...

But...

times a-waisten, times a' cookin,

 

and the day is nearly done.

 

We shall stand with the crows -

who watch -

and they shall caw to us.

 

 

Much Love,

Miss CLScarlett xx