It’s volcanic the way the world keeps so much pressed down. I feel if I listened to the heartbeat of a dove I would understand the rhythms of the underworld. I am God-fearing in the right ways. But I still court swallows.
This is the heart of the world (The Volcano). I am thinking of initiation. It’s always the small things which move me. Like the wings of the bees who occupy the lavender. Sometimes I hate seeing so clearly because there is nothing to do but pluck the feathers from the truth to reveal a clear burst of electricity.
You won’t like this but it’s honest. Nobody wants to look too closely at the way things change, the way a reveal can bring to light so many unwanted thoughts and desires. I shouldn’t harsh the mellow like that. Honesty always calcifies me as I find it so challenging to say exactly what I mean. I am beholden to the wants of the Rabbit’s Moon.
Lavender weather, puce moment. The streets are so empty. Eerie. The city becomes unrecognizable like a cipher. To realize that everything you once knew has become unfamiliar. Today I am taken with those painted blues that feel so brilliant, like diamonds reflecting the soul’s inner depths.
I have my reasons.
I finally understand that vision I had with the doves months ago.
I am sympathetic to the jaws of the beast. Time to blow out all the candles.