kuangning: (Default)
I looked out the window a little while ago, and almost fell into a night sky full of stars. The moon, bright and round, toyed with a tattered blanket of clouds before tossing it away on the wind.

It has been a beautiful day. There were momentary aggravations, but much laughter, much warmth, and a great deal of wonderful company. I would name names, but I'd be sure to leave someone out. So thank you, everyone. I haven't felt this dreamy content in quite some time.
kuangning: (Default)
one word: fear

two words: no more

three words: it is here

five words: I will fear no evil

twelve words: dreams slip through my fingers like smoke, and yet are not gone.

twenty five words: Here, in this place, the music curls softly around me. Time has no meaning. Sunlight and shadow surround me; I have begun again to dream.

fifty words: Return to the places you have left empty too long. We are all Demeter's daughters, straying from the paths we know. Come again, comes the call... there is sunlight above, and life to be taken up again. The silent spaces wait for you. The sleeping voices sound again for you.

seventy five words: Closed doors. Locked windows. Earth piled high... and yet. And yet. In dreams, we are always free. Choose the path that suits you; I will travel the one I have seen, in quiet midnights, behind the closed shutters to my windows on the world. In the end, we arrive together. In truth, we are never apart.

Truth is truth, he told me. It does not care whether you believe. Today, I know what he means.

one hundred words: Drowning. Struggling. Pushing against the flow. Cool water mingled with frantic tears. Coughing, choking, biting back words. Speak, or breathe? No choice; the words unspoken poison. Silence kills, tears fail. Trust falters, lacks for words. Secrets; we drown in secrets, and wait for the hand that can bring us back to ourselves again. (Yours is that hand,) comes the whisper. (Yours, and your own alone.) Unheeded, unheard, it falls silent. Implacable eternity passes by uncounted, is gone. In darkness and silence, we wait.

Return, child, return. You have stayed away too long. Demeter's daughters, awaken... Life waits still for thee.

one thousand words:

picture by Susan Lyons.
kuangning: (wistful)
*sigh.* Baby children. Did I forget to say it was going to be a good day? It was. But that's okay. Because your last chance hasn't come and gone yet. The stars are clear and very bright here right now. It's cool and crisp and when I stood outside a few minutes ago, a leaf brushed my face and clung to my cheek for a second. Funny how I'd never thought before -- leaves fall at night, too. I guess it makes sense -- what's the difference between night and day, after all, but the sunlight or lack of it? And still. So much pain, today. So many irritations, so much loneliness, so much hurt and anger.

I'm not really full of words right now. But there's a wish blowing on the wind, from me to you, and I hope you'll let me know if you hear it and if you care to make it come true. Go find a moment of rest and ease, if you can. If it's been a long day, light a candle, draw a bath, put your favourite song on, do whatever it takes to stop for five minutes and let yourself rest, and know that someone cares. The wish for tonight is peace, however you find it. Take care of yourselves.
kuangning: (wonder photosphere)
It's that time of year again.

We had the first frost on the grass, on the rooves, on the fallen leaves, on the cars. Sunlight glittered off ice-crystals and lit up everything as we drove home, turning puddles into mirrors that flashed messages I could just barely understand. The leaves are as red, as yellow, as rich as they are going to get from this point onward -- and, this being the south, there is still plenty of new green if one knows where to look.

There's something about ice that speaks of beginnings to me. Yes, I know that sounds wrong; everyone thinks this is the ending of the year. But I can't think of dormancy without looking forward to renewal, and I can't see bare branches without thinking that they now have a clean slate, ready for a fresh start -- and so do I. Everything seems possible right now, with all the old clutter pushed aside, old thoughts falling away from me like those leaves. Somewhere back in grammar school, Enid Blyton's Pip and I learned that the leaves change colours because the trees pipe their wastes into them, and then they fall because they're not needed any more. I feel lighter without my leaves. Wonder if the trees do, too. Goodbye, season of pushing for maximum growth in the shortest amount of time. Goodbye, fighting for space, for light, for moisture, for all the little things it takes to feed a tree -- or nourish a soul. Somewhere along the line, we got to a point where we could slow down a little... and we never noticed, till the frost came to remind us. Now it's time to be still, to watch and wait and maintain, until the call comes, wrapped in warmer weather and springtime dreams, that it's time to be stirring again.
kuangning: (magic)
Penny, penny, what will you give me...?

... I will give to you this moment. No, not this one, that one... oops, there it goes. Through your fingers, through your thoughts, out into ... where? Where do lovely thoughts go?

Sometimes they get caught here. Sometimes they rush by, but come back to play hide-and-seek in my dreams, to whisper secrets that become thoughts in their own right, concept-seeds sprouting and blossoming in the space between blinks while I'm staring, fascinated.

I can't hold a moment. But I'm trying. Can you? Tell me a story, tell me true... tell me the loveliest thing you've seen or heard or touched today. Plant a seed -- the crystal vines and sapphire blossom ones, or the ones with the hint of gold. Maybe some of the ones with the sunlight glowing through stained-glass memories? And when you've done, there's sure to be at least one little story ready to come out of hiding... it's just waiting to be coaxed.

September 2015

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