My cold-iron core feels a touch out of time, a promise that aches like cold in the bone. Haunting the silent sweep of evening, I am a sable moon, unteathered, alone.
I long to know the savage fire of a pale and distant flame. I search the many eyes of night for a siren-star without a name.
Reality--cold, sterile, and overrated-- makes too much sense. I much prefer to dream my way into the excess of eclipse. A Dark Moon drifting home...
Lee, these feelings describe what is happening to our world and us during these days of movement into what we are becoming... neither old nor new --leaving our souls flailing about. Dreams guide, trust them.
When an imagination impairing disease infects the Castle of Imagination, the Rainbow Dream Trains embark on a global treasure hunt to find the hidden cure. Using the spirit's power, Nina transforms herself and Danielle into a pair of eagles to guard
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judith
You have been missed, and so have your words. A most image rich, haunting poem. :)
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :)
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :D