Weave 12

This place moved to a beach. The gray-green waters of a mid-atlantic beach, mirroring itself on the ground and the sky. Three synchronized detonations of this astral explosive, filling our minds with ancient shapes and patterns. Much like the witch now we moved on the sand, cosmic rhythms giving us intuitive movements, powerful movements. Secret movements. Three points of light in a dark ocean of chaos. Momentum fades, words fail, and the lights separate. Nothing lasts forever.

Brief loneliness happens.

Two lights reunite with happiness, pulling together through storms of poetry and sand. The guiding light. The third light. Seen in the distance atop a cliff, waves crashing against the base. There are no sailors here. Only a lighthouse filled with magic and madness. A race to the cliff, which recedes to accommodate the two lights to be three again. 

Money looks ridiculous. Ghostly pieces of dirty paper that forever stains the fingertips. No more looking so closely. There is wood we can walk on. Creaking stairs and gritting sand and we pile in with strange humans, creatures of the night and keepers of the faith. The faith that this delusional world of objects is the alpha and omega. Faith in their bank accounts and love affairs. No conversations pass, but we summarize them by the look on their face and the movement of their limbs. They have not seen the power that looms over their head and behind their eyes, they are just timidly walking past it, head down, hoping it will pass them by. It gets to everyone eventually. Even you, timid nobody. Even you.

Sunlight changes the colors of everything, deepens the textures. Salty air fraught with moisture. We look like ugly girls in the solace of dawn. Laughter abounds. Streets are walked, a pink elephant seen, and necklaces are made out of miniature boxes of laundry detergent. Small, peanut butter smeared bagels ‘cooked’, and the fan turns my voice into zombonic robo-scissors. Guiding light makes the guitar sound right finally.

I’m hunting. hunting for power and a safe landing in a fierce and unforgiving world of moving energy. There’s a moral to these fabled stories and a sphere where they are each lodged within my being.