Moonlit Magician and a Muse

Keep your wits about you. The light is changing. From sun-bathed gold to slivers of sparkling silver light. A shadow here dimmer for the glimmer of the light is less. A fantasy, a slight of hand, a ring of magic — and you could be lost to cold winds and sharp cliffs.

A fire burns in a lantern. Is it a star to guide you home or a death at the door waiting to devour you? No-one put it there but you.

Feather headdresses crown the trees, crows and jays, owls and raptures, perched and waiting to spot the weakness, the weakest moment in you. A trip, a misstep. Unguided, out here, you could easily disappear.

But lie out in the light and shield your eyes and you might, might, might just find the one thing that you’d been thinking you could avoid.

The knowledge that what you’ve done and where you’ve been and the things you’ve known and grown into are the things that will, in this half light and otherworldly dance, bring you back to your senses.

Take off your goddamn shoes and feel the ground. It pulses with the pull of north, taking you up and up and up through the fear and doubt that’s been a crippled crutch from the start. Like smoke rings, you can burn yourself up and rise, flitting and separating, into the sky.

Four small glass jars full of four differnt things. A ring carved by your hand into the ground. Full moon breaks from behind the rushing clouds. Only for a second can you see it. A handful of moss and grass and sticks and gemstones you’ve collected over days and years, lifetimes passing like clouds across you.

The truth underneath these images is the truth we’re scraping at. It goes deeper than blood and calicum lines. Deeper than limestone and the ocean floor. Deeper than rivers of lava shifting molten underneath mountain ranges. It goes beyond the stars blown super-nova down into black holes that always, always have, always will remember everything.

When you look into the sky at night, you see the way things are. You see the past as it actually happened. You see the whole universe as it once unfurled. You never see the moments as they are or happen or become. You only ever know what was.

We call the sun’s light day because light reflects against the watery skin of our bubble and shields us from such things. We want for it because that proximal star sheds bounties of life around for us to devour, alter, and love.

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