Basil Kisses Mommy. (18.6.10)

Never doubt the power of the wind that sweeps along the healing rain.

In the darkened days, when we hadn’t figured out as much, of what it was like to be kind, to be human, there was a stormy night. And in that night there were the souls, who’d sought their shelter in places, that kicked them out on their faces, time and time again.

Three of these souls were Ash, Amelie, and Baby tucked inside. The thunder crashed around them, lighting up their paths, they had no where more to turn.

They settled underneath, a tree whose leaves cast an illusion of protection, and as the raindrops fell, their spirits did as well.

Ash and baby curled into Amelie and cried, sure this was the end. The last chance at hope was spent and wasted, lost in the shuddering alleyway boards. Amelie only looked up to the sky, unable to see through the raindrops, unable to see where the rain fell from, the cloud with the silver lining, the rainbow they were supposed to cross. There was only darkness and swirling patterns of falling rain, struck briefly alight with flashes across the sky.

If this truly was the end, if this was where they’d lie, then at least, she’d make her lover smile to the sky, one last time. Amelie stood on shaking legs, wiping raindrops across her face, pretending she was brave. Her lost white dress in tatters, clung to her form as she stood against the storm.

Her voice rose quiet, soft, and unendingly sweet.

Lady Ash my love,

We have come so far.

And our child within you,

must know our star.

The star our love has followed, looking for the future, a world where we can say that this has past.

This song was my grandmother’s, her love in me grows strong.

I sing to the elements of soul

They dance around us all

entrancing us in storm, warming us in shine, bringing us the fresh bread scents.

This is our love and child, and this is where we are

I sing for you my love and all who’ve needed shelter.

To all the world’s connections, carry this message with you,

Along to all the ones who can help you

Find the shelter from the rain that would heal us

If only falling with a different touch.

And in these moments, when all hope is lost,

Please be standing there.

Her song is haunting against the rain, Ash’s tears mix with rain on her face, and when Amelie offers her hand for them to dance in the echoes of her song, she takes it.

Swaying there together, singing their songs of love, Baby kicks between them, and the rain warms their faces and their hearts.

For everywhere around them, lights blink on in darkness, casting light in shadow and a honeyed glow. The rain fell thicker all around, but the cold did not sting them, the wind did not bite. They were caressed together, taken care of by the night.

Amelie’s song returns in the raindrops, ringing along the ground, except her words are different, answered by the storm.

To the wind and rain who hears us, and all the spirits there that may,

We Care.

Those lovers there beneath the worried sky, were protected. From their own world and the wonders that had lost their course, warmed in rain and sheltered they danced in love. Amelie took a sprig of something growing just in the dirt and cracks, held it to her lips and laughed. Pressed it to her lovers lips and kissed her. The sweet, earthy scent of basil wound around them, a charm for their future, and a lullaby for their tired eyes.

Ash’s tears were happy now as her hand brushed baby’s tiny fist, lying just below the surface, ready to seize the world. “I think we should name her Basil.” Ash’s voice was hoarse and low, accompanied by the thundering approval of whichever goddesses above were watching.

Amelie nods and they kiss once more.

***

Seven long years later,

These two lovers stand, with their own protection and their people, finding their better world.

Basil kisses mommy, and she grows.

Silly Weekly Meta Momentum. (18.10.4)

When ya gotta write and all your head provides is song lyrics that already exist.

Starting lines and dramatic passages of fame.

Bits and pieces, ideas and scraps; deserve much better than this claptrap half exhausted gotta write something for the weekly brain.

Can’t loose momentum on the weekly.

Bits deserve flesh and strength.

Pieces of larger things that can’t, well shouldn’t, simply be removed.

To stand on their own.

Ideas take time.

Scraps need edited.

Sensations and scenes, imagery and vivid instants.

Those would be lovely.

Fully realized, perfect edits, easily.

While still asleep.

The lead weight cotton static in the mind drags on the hunt

To find a more or less decent post.

Maybe next time, it won’t be a weird and silly meta blob of bits and pieces.

Open Wind. (12.7.6)

Listen to the open wind

It speaks

As

A culture all its own

Open wind lives

Within

Everyone feels

Open wind

Within

It calls

Beckons

Cries

Begs

For your alliance

To find what you search for

In

On

With

The Open wind

Why do you trust

That it will take you

Where you want,

Where you belong,

When it

Changes.

When it only

Changes.

Write At Once. (18.9.14)

Bits and pieces jumble.

Perfect and whole in the mind.

Falling haphazard on the page.

 

Missing pieces, nibbled edges, colors slobbered off.

 

Process is the gauntlet.

Jumble perfectly formed ideas.

Tossed through the clumsy translation of fingers,

Stitching together til their nearest approximations.

 

Some pieces from another box.

They’re supposed to fit, but don’t.

But those that clearly don’t go together,

won’t let go.

 

Nearly there,

Or thread is lost.

Pride,

despair.

Lost and maybe found.

 

And a derpy puzzle metaphor

Amalgamation – abomination? – with sewing

Cause that’s just what happened and really,

the reasoning isn’t there

but why take the effort

to change it?

 

(change what it might become,

in the next pass.)

World or Wonder. (10.1.1)

Swaying so slightly,

Feeling the call.

 

A laughing smile,

A quiet teardrop.

 

Wind in the trees,

Brushing away the bees

 

See.

See.

 

What do you see?

 

Hear.

Hear.

 

What do you hear?

 

A sorrowful soul?

A laughing heart?

 

A pained moan?

A scream of laughter?

 

Who do you see?

See?

 

An old friend?

Perhaps a lover?

 

What do you hear?

Hear?

A long forgotten story?

Perhaps in an old language?

 

Swinging in time,

 

Truth,

or Dare?

 

World,

or Wonder?

 

Live,

or Die.

 

Truth is dying.

Dare’s no longer with us.

 

World is overrated.

Wonder is forgotten.

 

Living is a waste.

Dying even more so.

 

Clouds are leaving.

 

Goddesses’ crying.

 

And you.

 

The sky is gray,

The blue long gone,

 

The trees are black, no longer strong.

 

What will end all pain?

No one.

 

***

Everyone.

White Light. (10.8.9)

A captivating force.

A glowing glance.

 

White light dances.

 

A free spirit.

A trusting soul.

 

White light dances.

 

A shadow deep.

A pocket of brightness.

 

White light dances.

 

All the same

True to form

 

White light dances.

 

A swirling cloud.

A bouncing disco ball.

 

White light dances.

 

Total opposites.

A polar difference.

 

White light dances.

White light dances.