Saturday, August 9, 2014

Of Falling Leaves and Owl Feathers

I wake up inside the dream I become conscious and still I am asleep. The world around me becomes a symphony, the prince and his horse ride through the forest, of green moss and moon light, and he picks me up on his horse, never stopping to think about it, he just knows I am the love.

I wake up in the palace, the music hall, each instrument lamenting the marriage of the princess to her love. The sorrows and the past begin to fall around me and only the two of us are standing.

The owl feather falls onto the harp. It makes simple sound and calls out to the gods to give us the power to love together, to wake up the magic together. To wake up souls that were forbidden that weren’t to be touched weren’t to be connected in this life time, too magic too powerful and yet their passions pull them together.

The falling of the two into the abyss of love only wakes up their magic further. There is no time to pause for a moment except to move forward. We do this for each other so that we can move forward and face each other into the pink candle that burns on the ocean floor. The candle that calls us into compassion.

Night will come and day will take us away to another world another planet another moon and stars. Let the bird’s tail flit against the bass. Call to the jazz dancers and flapper girls to raise a class of gin and tonic and laugh into the night.

The cat’s whiskers twist and turn on the guitar. Let the golden leaves fall in the mist and waving and dropping against the violin strings. They morn our singleness and strike out a path that makes us united with the universe and its energies.

I’ll put the charcoal against the slate and draw humans dancing to the sound that nature makes. The slate along the sea shore; the seashore against the piano the strings slice the water a water that will soon be extinct unless we rise back up from the falling love is taking us there.

A symphony of nature and I sing, as I walk along the shore, my percussion the rocks rolling together under the water, under my feet; tigers and lions roar in my soul, in my soul the wild animals run and race my music fills that round goblet in the wave and I walk on through the echoes of the birds.

I have sang all day like I wasn’t scared of the sound of my voice, I loved like I wasn’t afraid of the repercussions. I wasn’t weak in the knees with the sound of my voice scratching and moaning untrained.

There are voices in the distance of fae and gnomes playing between the trees and mine was one of them the wind was chorus of children with voices as crisp as a falling maple leaf. The nape of my neck accepts your fingers the small hairs a-line with touch and hunger.

The sea spiders, like small eyes against the rocks run away from my step, rock to rock, like a note on the music staff and may all your dreams come true and may all your heart aches lead to love so strong the ropes around your heart, the hemp rope, like those on the sailing ship in the harbour, release and let all your doves fly into the sky and all the sea birds fly above your heart pulling your strings moving you like a dancer Rising back up from the falling in love, may it let you rise back up again.

I tip toe over the rocks and cliffs where the birds fly below me. I would die if I fell, that’s where I feel alive today, that’s where I want to go and be at one with space and time and happiness. The symphony for breakfast, for dinner, for supper, with waffles and whip cream but you’re allergic to wheat and whip cream so you have to be excited for everyone else and somewhere your heart is sad for yourself.


Rising and falling on the symphony of love.

No comments:

Post a Comment