
Things are rarely
what you think
they pretend to be.
Do not mistake
a perception
for reality.
Surviving and thriving
are two different things.
Entirely.
only the tidbits
The intolerable tyrant will meet a mighty end.
The worst of fates Beset
those who dismiss and abuse
children.
Boys who want to be Gods
pretending to be men.
will be cast in stone
and tossed below
for their sins.
Artemis is hunting.
Caireen is crying out.
Stylianos has abandoned refuge
and Jizo is awake.
Nicholas of Myra is a
Patron on the take.
There is work to be done
for the cause of the soul.
A child kept
in a cage
destroys
us
all.
Ask Bes to keep you.
The storm is quick to rise.
Time is watching now
and it’s ready for a fight.
Notes:
Beset- Female counterpart to Bes
Artemis- Diana Nemorensis
Stylianos- Hermit/Saint
Nicholas of Myra- Saint Nicholas
Caireen- Cailleach’s Irish Counterpart (although I believe they are two different imaginings)
Jizo- Jizo Bodhisattva
I make these lists year by year of the lessons I’ve learned and the truths that I’ve found. I make them in order to track my age and forge an alliance with myself. This little annual inventory is taken from a year of scribbling my thoughts down:
Note: My notes are personal truths. A collection of the reminders I write to myself and my Bird.
Sometimes when I am in the past,
I can see the things that were meant to be.
A shrewd and subtle foreboding persists there, collecting dust.
We all played our parts in it,
made sacrifices and surrendered endlessly to it.
Greedy for attention and simple recognition of
how special we really were.
Everyone watching and waiting then,
learning how to survive.
Slaves to ambition,
slinging drinks and talking shit.
We were deep in hope then,
tremendously alive.
Rest easy old friend, when you need to find me
I’ll be in solace tucked, quietly away.
Sidelines, garden sheds, corners in the shade.
A place where the noise can’t touch
in the light of day.
I never did fit in quite right,
awkward and aloof.
My mind, simple and demanding
collecting stories and sorting truths.
I have always been an apt pupil
at ease in solitude.
The translation of this has long been mocked
and called by many names:
Lack of confidence,
severe shyness,
a consequential guilt.
Fear,
arrogance,
and my favorite mishap, shame.
I call it self-possessed
by my own name.
Rest easy old friend,
for time has surely shown,
I will be here in the end
just as I have always been.
Embedded in a quiet
of the mind
I call home.
I never did fit in quite right
and you are not alone.
When the sun arrived, it was all made purple.
The bright reminder of time’s earthly holdings.
Hello and Goodbye.
We are all just tiny reflections,
a twinkle in the eye
of a larger fate.
Vastly insignificant when all is said
and done.
Little drops of life
composing of one.
Because of the rooster,
the insisting, demeaning, and demanding.
The lonely loud cock
stained with the fortune
of freezing time.
Because of this rooster,
stuck in a cycle of violence,
stuck between day and night.
Because of this damn rooster,
the mornings come
before the light.
I’ve met my Owl, he lives in the wood.
He is large like my eagle, but harder to see.
His painted wings wear the mask of the trees.
How he found me, I will not know.
He was only in my dreaming then, decades ago.
My mind was an explosion then, ready to blow.
That was my beginning then, but now he is here.
Hunting and watching on this sacred ground.
I can see him, fear him, and love him,
my eyes are open now.
When all is said
and all is done,
we were two
made into one.
We did this growing,
in secret, we did.
When no one was watching,
and the seasons were still.
We faded into ourselves,
together
on this hill.