I woke from a heavy slumber upon being lit again. A mere stub now… That stature and pride of youth gone, but leaving behind like molten wax trickling down my wintry body, the illumination of wisdom that comes with time and a lifetime of service. Would you like to hear a dying light’s flickering words… Continue reading Words of a Melting Candle…
Category: Creative Writing
Vermillion: a Priestess’ prayer to the Goddess
At a far distance, the cool night sets. A Purnima. The Goddess in red, out her idol steps...in the abandoned temple.
Night-time poesy: Unlatched
No… pray until your heart opens, like a door He quietly unlatched at dawn where every chant, spelled to silence breaks at the throat, to become bird-song... and you let your soul step out
Sea, the woman
What pretty, precious oystered pearls amid buried, bedded bijouterie! She knows of breath beyond deaths, knows of the lost in living lives... Boundless, bottomless, her intelligence. She unmasks… She mystifies…
I used to believe in snow globes
The shopkeeper smiled and wound the key- and the tune, faint and trembling, made the snow fall again! Head tilted, heart lifting into a smile, I listened then. So, sorrow could be rehearsed until it became beautiful.
As ancient as a glance (1)- twin flames
He forgot the long hunger of men, the salt of years, the withering of faith. Only the tremor of her gaze remained- not mercy, not invitation, but law... as ancient as the word.
Lessons I learnt from the hardest year of my life
While you must be prepared for many an ‘Et tu, Bruté?’, moment, don’t die yet, Caesar. Yes, there’ll be many Judases in the crowd, and by many, I mean many, but God will also manifest in the bonds meant to evolve out of the storm with you and hold you through it, or at least hold your brolly through it until you’re home.
Fireplace
a tale from an old book- as if read out loud by the teacher when I was four and climbed the beanstalk listening; looking out the window of the ol' library, by the hall- even though... 'twas simply a climbing rose..!
Until You Return
With Sainted blessing we begin 'fore Ishwara's dance of destruction,
Before the East wakes
Yet the moon is privy to midnight footsteps; smiles sly crescents as the wind sweeps 'em away... Away... for the night must stay suspended just so as a magick scroll..only but half opened
Ishaisms 
You must be logged in to post a comment.