Regaining Lost Aspects: Mind and Soul
Through book events, poetry, and creativity, we dive a little deeper into humanity.
Every evening at a certain time the fates are delivered a prompt, and with that prompt, they make stories that determine our fate. Some stories are full of laughter, some sorrow, and some things that only the gods will laugh at.
I have a secret if you want it.
It may sound nice to have a soul that is filled with vanity. To love yourself the most of all.
Sounds like a happy existence.
Maybe.
But there are no awards for these selfish hearts in the afterlife.
Just emptiness.
Be a better ghost.
Thousands of windows
Beat white in the golden sun
Thrumming against the quakes
That erupted the city like clockwork
There, the colossal poleaxe
Threatening in the giant’s hand
Swung an arc 20 floors deep.
The city’s cries were silent in the giant’s ears
For all he heard was his rage
Spin me a conundrum
A question of sanity on a thread
Twining in my nightmares
Twisted moods of dread
Motives complicating
The answers nowhere near
Driving touch of lunacy
To make the Game of Fear
I nod to the end of my life,
whenever it may reach me.
For I am ready to travel
to worlds far beyond the stars.
Only let yourself settle when you know you are for sure alone. You never know what is hidden in the dark and the in-between spaces. Yes, there are some things only a witch can see, but you can always trust your own shuddering breath.
Pieces of her writing and and words shove me through the page until I am there and have to blink away the vision, shocked that words could grab me so. Not talent, no. But the ability to craft a reader to a writer’s soul.
I actually wrote this about an author whose book I am currently reading. I am not done reading the book yet, but I hope the ending is as beautiful and as grasping as her writing. Let’s give a shoutout to the artists who inspire other artists and keep the magickal flow of passion dancing in us all.
Book I am reading: The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab
Paint a feather
into my soul
So I may fly
And be forever known
Starts with one
Until it grows into wings
Paint me a feather
So I may be free
This week has been a very vulnerable week, as I write this from a different state about to attend a funeral. From the recent death, all the rejections I’ve gotten so far, and dipping my toes into a past that threatens to drown me, I would say that it has been challenging mentally. I tried to find a poem I have done in the past this morning before having to get ready that didn’t sting and burn to the touch of a thought, but the only one I found was one that I thought fits well to the day I had yesterday.
Resentment inhabits me from so long ago.
Alone. My family’s eyes boring into me.
Always the outcast.
No one by my side.
I never want the same for you.
She was a greenhorn
who made a kerf in a tree
but little did she know
the forest wasn’t pleased.
Eyes were all watching
hidden nearby
All could care less
that she was told only lies.
Sent out to awaken
the monsters of the leaves
but little did she know
the demon she unleashed.
Regaining Lost Aspects: Mind and Soul 