Ritual

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Ritual gives form to meaning
(every wiseman’s son doth know).
Every act from which we’re gleaning,
Every sack that we must sow
Gives rise to tides that make us wise;
Gives humor chance for binding wounds.
Does good these ancient weary eyes
To dance abandoned round the moon.

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Full Moon Harvest

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I could
if I willed it
go inward
beyond the cognition’s sphere.
Infinite bliss
the whole of the real
I know, I feel.
Eternity pulls me,
grasps my ambient air
into awareness.
All ways my destiny.
Incandescent transcendence,
resplendent artist’s delight.

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Still
here
in these moments
stuck in migrating vibrations
attached to this Earth,
mired (but not beyond mirth,
cosmic inspiration)
miasmic
throes and woes,
undefined transformation,
laborious birth
I am dignified, made whole.
Giving service to vision
corroded, corrupted,
yet shining below that surface
I see
and uncover the light.

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Full Moon reflection

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Archetypes
walk city streets, ride subways as commoners –
subterranean consciousness,
ethereal siamese twin
to the everyday.
Shadow and substance
entwine as before
the invasion.
I long to tell you,
yearn so I loudly whisper,
but only if you really listen.
I cannot say these things twice.
Memories seep through,
acquire form.
Stand straight and true
as soldiers or Marines
giving full allegiance
to any who will take that load.
There are Gods foaming in excrement
begging relief in the form
of sacrament
potent and deadly.
Angels and
Demons wage sacrosanct war,
dice from a grail
foresaging trial or comfort.
Hungry Ghosts wail.
Vampires and Creatures
of the night
seek shelter before
travails of daytime
break them.
Morning Star
winks salaciously.
In wild’s kingdom
all manner of creatures
thrive.
Eagles soar.
Lions roar.
Whales sing.
Humans open a
veiled third eye.
The World rejoices.

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With a word, the stranger gives a hand
An image stronger than the sound
Water falls upon the land
A smile peeks out from a frown
An eclipse returns dark to noon
As men’s minds walk upon the Moon

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Eclipse Scrying

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Where’s the fun
in hiding in the eye
of the hurricane?
I want to be bodysurfing
the storm,
madly dancing in the rain,
cast off from restrictive form …
I want to taste sweet grapes
break crisply;
Embark on a journey of ecstasy
to be all I have
thought to be;
Yet safely reside
in a place deep inside
away from the prying norm.
I want romance in the sense of
sensation inviting and free.
I want a chance to believe in magic.
And I want what I want to be
crazily in love with me.

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E)clipse Dream

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Jump! Jittery. Nauseous claustrophobia . . .
l e t t i n g g o s l o o o w
Whoosh in a leap faster than my breath can catch me
moving dizzily, half-blinded, out of focus
moving along a tree-shadowed path.
Enchanted forest?
smoke curling upward
gingerbread cottage in the woods
may I rest here, recoup my losses?
Savory soup simmers over the hearth fire.
Shadows fall over the corners
yet the center of the room
is surprisingly clean and polished.
I sit in mantra embraced
by soft silky wings.
Outside winter is falling.
When I awaken from my trance
planting season will begin.

The wild rains of spring
have caught me napping.
They catch me up in torrents
swinging me along
a cradle in the sea.
I am dreaming mazes
wondrous pageantry
woven into ivy walls.
The sea surrounds me.
I acquiesce to secret ceremony
believing the earth to be my home.