Tag Archive | magical places

Arms Of Another 

When you touch my bare skin what do you feel? Is it the softness, bathed in gentle wafts of lavender and silk, or the dry hand of the sun from noon…

Do you smell the scent of summer upon the air when I walk by? Or the sweat of lust against my brow and cheek.

What do you see when you look into my eyes? Friend, beauty, lover?
And when you grasp my hand and lead me giggling about the room do you sense my heart beat, do you feel the flush upon my skin?

Are you with me in this moment when together we are twined about the moon. Or am I alone… whilst you look out unto the night, wandering in a world that I can never walk into.

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Never too old for magic

I remember the excitement of Christmas as a child, peaking through my bedroom curtains to see if it was snowing yet, placing water outside waiting for it to freeze, thus telling of the inevitable snowfall. The smell of the tree of course was the best of all, when it was dark out the tree would sparkle as if lit by fairy wings, dancing with tinsel and fragile glittery bulbs that would shatter into a million pieces if dropped, we’d lose one or two every year no matter how careful we were, they were just so delicate.

 Best of all were the gifts! Coming from such a large family, my immediate family alone would fill the under branches of the tree with so many gifts that it became almost impossible to water the poor green giant, all dressed up but with no place to go, one would have to create a path among the presents or lose our precious new family member to drought.

Nothing more exciting however then the night before Christmas, the hush of tired little elves and the rustle of last minute wrapping, it’s magic in the air, floating around each of us, radiating and multiplying into a tizzy of rambunctious joy!

My siblings and I would dream of snow, we’d cut out little paper snow flakes and tape them to the very large kitchen windows, this was tradition to give thanks to the snow for joining us in the past and willing it to return once again.

In those days we had several white Christmas mornings greet us, in our eyes snow would bring all the mystical creatures of the holiday to our home and it never quiet felt as special on years when the snow stayed away.

Even with the likely argument between either mum and dad or one of us kids getting into some silly quarrel Christmas was always the best part of the year, to this day I believe in the magic that surrounds us during the holiday season, hearts are warmer, hands open, smiles frequent. Though it’s not so much about the wading through knee deep discarded wrapping paper that I long for anymore, but the wholesome belly filled love sensation that is everywhere. The air still tingles and the Christmas tree still homes a dozen fairies, wings all a flutter.

…And perhaps maybe, just maybe if we are really still and press our noses to the cold glass of our windows, maybe we’ll by chance catch sight of the first snow flake as it falls.

 

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“Hush…” warned the butterfly

“Hush…” warned the butterfly

Long shadows reach across the moon cast night, eerie fingers climbing

eagerly over rock and root with gnarled nails scraping at dampened crevice

and sunken corners, leaving behind a mist of molding questions to hang

within the air. Such a night that no soul in its right mind would wander,

whisper or walk without an army of well fitted men to protect ones back.

Fires crackle, with blue hands nearby, shoulders shivering as bodies huddle

close, eyes black and beady steal glances from side to side, fearful of what

may lie behind them. A thickness of unease is spread like tar, sickly

clinging to the living and those near dead. Its fangs bare down, a serpent

sneaking its way into our beds, eyes betraying its thoughts as it sucks the

warmth from within us. Breath and the beat beat of our chest, pale faces with

lips parted gasp, what was life but joyous… now rain ruined and blood

stained red. Knees pressed into the dirt, cold and hard, prayers turned to the

heavens, hands rose up high, “if there be a god may he find us, may he

save us from this tide.” Tears blink and down from cheek run, falling with

a shattering of sighs amongst the bent and broken. Children cry, but pause, a

moment hung, is that a star hidden within the sky, or a sweet angel? Creature

of the light, her heart so pure, she is singing for us. “Raise the stagnant air

from the earth and send it far from sight, raise the voices of the lovers,

bring out the dolphin hymns, fend off the night!” Like a thunder clap the

silence broken, with a roar of waves upon the sky. Wondrous laughter

carried upward, with wings unfolding, soaring outward far and wide. Into

the rainbow light, along the rosy tide, crystal souls a dancing, white skirts

and gleaming smiles.

With the world now awakened, no sadness here can lie.

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Will-o’-the-wisp

~ Will-o’-the-wisp ~

Where she stood seemed strange, even unnatural, as if the wind blew from directions that never before had passed her by. Yet there she stood all the same, upon a peak surrounded by valleys that tumbled and wove like a loom being strung, complex and fascinating.

The air was rich with flavours that promised new and exciting experiences, could she follow them into this unabridged land, could she dare to go where she had never before been? A question for which only she held the answer… And without stepping forward forever she would stand there, wondering just what lay ahead, risk and all. And so… to stay still seemed just as impossible as moving forward did…

If you ask the sea to stop moving can it? It would go against nature, against the natural laws, so too must we move or forever be trapped within our minds, constantly wondering, what if… The forever, daunting “what if”.

Is it our own mistrust in ourselves that keeps us here? Are we forever following a will-o’-the-wisp, hoping to catch it, to hold it and know for certain that our steps are not faulty? Is it all just an illusion, are we the masters?

Or simply just the slaves…

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Moonie’s Christmas Muse

~ Moonie’s Christmas Muse ~

I’ve heard, and so it is, they say…

There is a land where the cherry blossoms fall beneath a sky shrouded in soft hues of pearl and silver-grey.

Above grounds cloaked in bundles of deep white snow the sun sets an aquamarine and crocuses bloom only when the twilight sparrow tucks his wings to stay.

Frosted petals of pink and rose dapple the air when mother breeze takes her first morning breath, ah the scent of another day.

Below a midnight moon is seen icicles of rainbow braids all crystalline where shadow lovers gently dream and sway.

So soon shall roam the longest night but thereafter will live the forever May whilst in her velvet robe the stars- binding the light with winters blush, will touch their hearts, tip their hats and play.

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