styx & stones

I listen intently to his words;

Every. Single. One.

Each time,

Pulled across the river ~

To the land of the living.

Again.

It is commanded;

I listen and obey.

Placing myself in front of the rock,

I am yoked, choking in objection;

Determined to feel every crack and crevice,

Destined to wear it proudly;

Every dust mote & battle scar.

Waking to start the journey again;

Well met, renewed in fortitude.

calling you

Notification message: You never call

My fingers are broken I type back,

Ready to fire off another sixteen pages of reasons.

I don’t control these random acts of emotion,

They are par for the course

My guilty pleasure,

is

Toiling & toying with ideas;

Love the image

Removing hearts from image

The song plays on repeat.

Stars falling,

Zeus striking down,

Swan like in song.

story time

I sat by the campfire, warming my hands;

embers sparking, colorful hues of ultra-heated red,

Saying a prayer for the fallen stars over head,

Placing palo santo among the flames;

Wafting an air of mystery into the night.

Gypsy wanderer, cloaked in green;

Heralds a message as yet unseen,

Drawing from her satchel of white;

Thirteen cards in the dead of night.

By light of fire she reads them all,

Weaving tales from pictures called,

By many names across time and space;

A fortune famed in any place.