Thursday, June 13, 2024

When the moon speaks, cont.

 by Shaun Lawton




the moon can be obtrusive & sentimental, there's no disputing it's a mental construct
among creation there can be no exceptions, depending on how you behave in front
of yourself, the moon is the opposite of a misdirection, it's a direct reflection of the light
from the Sun, it's been said before and can't be stressed enough, the moon is our shield 
we've been blessed with somehow, some say it was left as a gift, that we've been entrusted
with it by Athena, she left it with us as an amulet of protection, and some believe the moon
is the stone that rolled away three times before the resurrection, and some have described
those periods of time as trimesters of a holy gestation, the moon plays a pivotal role 
 in every genuflection as it mirrors in orbit around the Earth crossing the heart's direction. 
The moon is like a rogue detective examining the scene of a mysterious crime 
 with a magnifying glass. The moon counts the passing months with a consistency 
of a metronome. The moon is the conductor of a phantasmagorical symphony. 
 The moon is never allegorical, it can only be one thing. The moon is a giant gong
 struck by a timpani of asteroids, still ringing. The moon whispers in our ears
 every night as it has for years. The moon is passing on the legend of a song. 
 For the moon is a great speaker that carries on the messages of the dead. 
It passes on the stories that are carried by the wind. The moon can be an enemy
 and also be a friend. It really just depends on what the moon feels like doing

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Welcome to Uldirth

We have swum so deeply below the turbulent waters of our passage into this, our current domain. The trends and eddies that are generated from a host of different passing creatures and elemental forces beyond our comprehension would be truly mind boggling were we in any way capable of correlating it all.  Lucky for us there is a membrane of insulation throughout the cellular divisions separating our nervous meat from ourselves, it is here where lightning flashes dissolve our very memory and we are forced to occupy that rarest stance of existence, that we/he/she/I you are all alone with nothing standing between us and oblivion when you consider it honestly enough from the heart which is carried by the legs it continually powers, a trackless run through evaporating curtains of undulating borealis on the eastern slopes of a dim far away mountain line merging into the gray haze of crumbling memories, suffering the added weight of so many sunsets.