"A darkening surge of magical light"
seems to somehow best describe her...
yet seems as confusing
as the sound it is making
as it comes from a noisy mind
not ever
to surpass these silent lips..
-gone-
to a pen
whose ink flows into words
put to lines
greeting ones eye
and equally as beautiful as all that..
gold
that lashes about and sheen's
grasping at your attention
leading straight to the carillon blue gateway
that is
to a soul
set in the mother/crone
loving and yet unwilling bend less embrace..
unless
it is..
the earth
wind
water
fire
and moon/sun
that commands it so..
all the rest
a soak filled flower
with its power
awaiting its queen..
and only
mother
"nurtures"
crone
"I am.."
and maiden
"forever!"
encircle us
in a mesmerizing dance..
and
"you are"..
you are
the song and the dance
the laughter and the tears..
you are
the teacher and the taught..
and
you are
the mountain that moves
only in the sight of the goddess..
yet i will not forget the seed i planted
as the last of the sunset
allowed that mighty mountain its minute for me..
still
it stood..
for near a moment
that seemed to turn into a quarter of a century..
you allowed me to share in your touch
beyond ozone less breath..
I lost my mind in what was said
what wasn't
and what was thought to be..
those heavens and hells
a treasure
of a Gaelic nymph
goddess mother
wisest crone
wavering tree
flowers free
and unmoving mountains
that moved this earth..
take her all away
my own personal Pompeii..
bring her back
only in the form of a dream..
"magical lights of black"
all forms we possess or lack
yet all pieces
together
with her
we're not..
holes but wholes
if you were to keep your promises
and believe..
don't confuse this moment
with nothingness
meaninglessness
confusion
and flight..
yet only with knowing
who she is
she is..
and how that fills me so fully
with bitter-sweet sight.
