Returning now from places I’ve avoided for three days
Had wished a thousand times I could discuss it with a friend
The deepest dark that challenges my glance
The animal within
Raises the hair on the back of my neck when this cup of brew is offered
The fire is in the means not used to tell the tale of journey
Songs of 1001 nights
Each tale a journey to illusion or the real
not sure
I feel to hold in silence is the best of ways
What purpose is it to be left to judge
When no judgments to be had
Instead
Howdoes it pose a purpose in the realm of being

So here
Grasp on Repunzals hair
My hair
And cut or hold which ever as you see
The crone is on vacation and
I know we still will be
Even if we fall ….or rise
First language:
Yes you use the word
I use the form
2 parts triads
in between
a path we both have means to walk
within our talks my words your words
reveal the things of course conditioning
still under scrutiny and judged for past
with careful ways of insight
we might hope to see
the paradox now placed within the plates of knowing
once again
I speak freely
you can judge what color I might use
or speak or paint or write and wonder
you have your brush
I have mine
(who knows if we had been brought to this place through gentler means )
me thinks we share this certain past
would we have found theses treasures
at the well.....
no way to tell

Perhaps the fire that comes is from the very thing I still
As human

right word right action right thinking right painting right writing
....left gnoing
Some in flow
Some no go
The watcher is appalled at times
And as a friend you have confirmed suspicions
within the disciplines we form new veils

our talk
way past what
endsin most concerns
there have been times
I throw my arms into the air and ask
why do I persist!!!
why does he persist!!!
Is it just the subtle substance holding us in dreams
Is it blood of kin and recognition of the sacred word
Or just his speaking all the language of the birds
Or something else
Sometimes I think I know
Most times not
I called so loud from valleys of the heart
He answers from the mountain
Often smashing trees and thunder from his den
Or inner sanctum
in memory of this
I must insist
I can’t look away
Companions all
And once I’ve seen this face of ages past
my heart is won and
yes committed to the muse of vulger veils
my questions are not of the future or the ways of men
those things exist within a realm of papers signed and pinkies clasped
point blank
I’m here because we led the way
You’re here because we called
Once more!
I have no expectations other than our firm intent
of being full of what we are
while emptying the chalice
to receive the blood of kin
at Mass
and
if within my words you find the longings of a woman
I will not regret or spend apologies for that
A part of what I am
not expectations
just is
I felt you
stumble round the words to warn me not to feel
What I feel is not work
But deepening
enrichment
Of what we being bears to fore

In prayer
In callings
Was a simple gesture to the gods
A simple spoken Word
Full knowing this can be alone
And willing to abide
the changing tides
But all those things we need to see in willing light
reflections in the night
odd combination
Mismatched minds
Mismatched emotional colors
Mismatched
mismatched
How perfect
Matched in friendship
Matched in love of truth
And children of the muse
We stand perfectly imperfect
Willing to encounter being
Relentless
Unshakeable
In absolute service to the all
If ever I apologize it will only be for my ignorance
Stumbling
And conditioning

Now for the past three nights…
A darkness so intense that flavors of a death
where there in challenge
to look straight in the eye of
fitfull sleep and stirrings in the nature
of the animal
to flee
I hesitate to speak
but over years of dreams I know the flavors fairly well
and this was of the animal to see
last night
at 3 am
I half woke once again in trembling of the self
As deep the dark descended once again
Demanding that I look
I froze in fear
Upon the deep edge of the fall
Said I
Release and fall!
What can you fear
Its only death
With this
It burst all open like a drop of oil upon the endless water
pouring from
all underground streams
In constellations of the mind
I saw her face
So fierce
The Dark and Her attendants
All black and stone and salt
Oh GOD I cried
Thrusting there her way toward south southeast
With speeds and power unthinkable
I tremble at the very memory of this sight
If this be of my soul
I cry aloud
If this be of some other realm
What am I but a piece of ash
The earth
Another Pheonix in the Son