Bearing Water for Brigid
 *
 *
Sketches for a water vessel —
united, bottle and message elide on waves.
Voice of Brigid calls.
All who hear: Imagine.
Exposed to wind, to grit, to rain,
shifts of vibration,
rock faces erode.
 *
Vessel
Designated fixed space
Seaworthy container
Conveyor through fluid
separates
fluidity
Creates place, surface to paint
tableaux for amusement,
diffusion of emotion,
beatitude against foment of dueling farce.
 *
Harsh edges polished,
pure shades
blend in the dark.
Brief infusion
of giddy illusion
glows
just enough to guilefully entice.
Sparkling Neural net
smiles,
a secret
clue revealing
purpose, meaning;
engages
wild eternal child,
ages’ flamboyant fool,
Glorious
Muse
 *
(Voice pours from within)
 *
A wound is a sacred vessel.
Pain carves into flesh
sense memory;
carries the seed
of its own demise.
Sentience
engulfed in life
learns anew to be whole.
 *
Wounded with the potential for wisdom
when eyes are are pried
from seeping, sucking, suffering
aching to censure what future we admire.
Redefine the schizm.
This wound is our project.
To heal, discover the vision;
realign the seam to fit
self-framed landscape.
 *
Let loose that genie of desire.
Ride rushing blood streams.
Build a roaring pyre of grief,
insane belief in wrath-filled deities.
Revile that old refrain: “life is pain” or a game
to be lost.
No Faustian bargain.
Just a 
rambling adventure
daring
to explore
essence of ecstasy.
Don’t wait for the rest to see
and demur.
Stretch your sail.
Take sight of your guiding star.
The only failure is self-denial
in favor of the vile lie
that pain is destiny
instead of faithful friend
lending energy
for change.
Slice vivid memories.
Exult in the tastes, the textures.
Enliven your way.
In the end
the vessel breaks.
There the Goddess stirs.
 *
 *
Scrying on the Moon
 *
~twilight of the goddess, call to song aery dancing, lady fair your fiery trance rewinds our souls; enjoy these offerings of fancy: all art is yours ~
By sibylline light
images I recognize,
creviced captures of my life.
I know her judgment to be my own.
 *
“Nourished by Moon rivers
mythical cavern blooms
unseen by sunlight
glow green.” 
Thus she sets the scene;
becomes the prophecy.
“Purest white simplicity
curved to suggest fragility
faith fed maiden ready for
plucking,
given in bondage to womanly woes,
hard rows to hoe
for tight human hug through 
crying of night.
 *
Fate of mortal soldiers, sacrificed to lust.
Seeking relief, beg for the boon of drama
high adventure
sneaking into sad hotels
for a fix or a tumble.
Laughs,
deadly play,
danger, a real chance.
 *
Barefoot in the snow
icy roads
winds so strong
I could not make you hear.
I thought you were my destiny.
Crazy thoughts, far from clear;
but I believed
song lyrics from Saturnine deities
would not lie, leave me
dying, fading into winter’s grey
drifting clouds,
endless sorrow endured for naught.
Lost on this careless corner,
dreaming of oblivion, intent on visions
like rain
tapping against eternity’s
vast windowpane.
Scenic serenity.
Nature’s gradations of green
soothe tired eyes,
trembling nerves, throbbing  veins.
Slivers of moonlight reflect,
disperse through refrains, unearth secrets
embedded in song
effervescing through cool pure air
 *
cleansing the uprising nestling
set aflame
resurrected
tempered mettle,
pure, wise, tested
engorged with the will
to rise”
 *
 *
Goddess’s Way
 *
With passion!
Outpouring elixir fills our mythic spring.
Sparkling flame of peace abides within,
licks battle wounds.
Not ignorant fools;
no pleas for altruist beliefs.
Relief of hunger completes us.
No cunning deceivers could ignite malice,
steal our good.
Unbalanced need reaches to heal through
magical interchange.
Energies when well-purposed, understood,
replenish, undiminished.
Why meanly measure 
scores in morality play at “who deserves”?
Healthful work, flowing contribution, 
bestows focal point for cyclic rain’s reward.
Fortune’s gift, this benevolent wishers’ well,
replete Goddess blessing.
Sacred vessels,
dip in for contentment, good will, joyful
self-regard.
This is not belief or even knowing.
This is breath of awe in motion.
 *
 *
Bride’s
 *
 *
Novitiate strong and true, my Lord.
Trained to service as is due, my Lord.
Sweep snowy threshold; chop roots for stew,
my Lord.
Domicile clean, tidy, warm.
Hearth fire charmed; wicks ready to light at dark’s release.
Kitchen enchantment, smells that spell succulent sup.
Holiday breads, hunt’s victory,
fruit sweet and spiced, preserved against winter’s insurgency.
Stalwart, luscious vintage ever replenished to
toast-raising cups.
Fragrant pipe passed ‘round; copious wine.
Feast sumptuously satisfied.   Night of dance
with hallowed candles cast in magic.
Rhythms wax and wander, discover heroic tales, grand to recount.
Bawdy poetry regales, playful competition gains momentum.
Energy escalates, fans profound merriment.
Family, beyond embarrassment, drunk on high spirits and love.
Goddess blesses, gently kisses, wafts through
artful celebration.
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