Rays of Golden Dawn

24 May

As I lay watching out the window, rays of golden dawn overtake clouds, illuminating my room, my personal effects, my awakening face and my sleepless thoughts. My sight slowly surveys the clarty coziness of this chamber piece by piece, as I do what I’ve done customarily for months in closing my last seasons at Shilshole Bay, before breaking or ripping myself away just days ago. Where the conquering wind sent waves in sets of three to wash my cottage shore as I nightly sent myself into winter’s isolated darkness to bed down like a dreaming seed, ungrip my soul self to do its sleeping invocations, and my mind to take its pathway through the dim wood to summon the cunning Urisk, to track the Fox and follow the Owl to the coming spring hunt. Rubbing the sides of my dry mind together like sticks to spark a friction fire for a blind man to see, in this sublime quest the blind man is me.
Grappling with memory. Contemplating the time gone descending, the plans ahead arising, each step that I’m aware has brought me to the conditions of this day, and each stroke that tolls the bell of brighter undertakings & enterprises, stepping to a ticking clock. I’m called to bring new order out of chaos, sense from senselessness, and growth from reduction & absurdity. Come along on a back-story road with me briefly, about my “boulevard of broken dreams”.

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