her transparent skin glowed like a waning moon….

oh life, you surprise me at every turn.  magical night took a tacit turn…into melodic simpatico, mutual blending, passionate blossoming, and mental meandering.  i know i am being cryptic, as usual.  life is changing again.  with the coming of spring, also comes, the coming out of the ashram, the coming of persephone out of her cave, ready to leave hades once again, ready to leave solitude, having faced even deeper fears then the year before, and having let them go.  deep spirit work, that persephone does.  rose on the chest to signify the ascend up the steps.  rose quartz over the heart to soften the journey.  love guiding.  hanuman.  unconditional love.  surrendered love.  vulnerable sweet love filling even the darkest most subconscious parts of self.  the subconscious is like looking under rocks to find what is vital…and if you love that vital goodness, those smashed up bugs, you are free….of the need….for control…and separation.  jai hanuman!  ganesha guides!  overcoming obstacles with every bat of the eyelash.  masculine and feminine in harmony, different, distinct, and serving one another.  the heart knows and the mind makes it happen.  no radical ways or thoughts needed.  feelings are always the root.  so play!  i am ready to play.  playing tonight.   a retro-goth party with old friends.  gonna be me-old self, visually. lace skirt, black chiffon, fishnets, boots.  even bought ivory face make-up i have not touched in years.   we’ll make jokes about valentines.  but i am not anti-valentines this year.  my heart is stirring ingredients.  venus is rising in the blood.  if i was alone with nobody to love or love me i would love earth, this body, and the stars.  feelings know.  need no pronouns.  no him and her, this and that.  before we split off into twos, oneness was phat… and fat…needing to become the many….the masculine and feminine many.  gonna wear red lipstick tonight too.  was gifted a huge black obsidian arrowhead dangling from my neck, pointing toward mother earth.  a raven’s face on the bottom.  so goth.  when i was goth the word was not goth.  it was mod.  remember?  remember all those poems we wrote in in high-school, amy?  how many times did we use the word transparent to describe skin?  how many pens did we go through?  nostalgia is fun.  life is a collection of poems that are nostalgic moments.  love collecting poems.  like last night. “let us go then, you and i, while the evening is spread out against the sky….”  maybe tonight will become a poem too.  delving into right now is the honeycomb my soul craves. my soul, the bee.  life is all the makings of milk and honey.  suffering, the soily darkness that holds the seed to every bloom.  presently gazing into the face of the sun… i am the moon…