Sketches for a water vessel – bottle and message elide on waves. Voice of Brigid calls. All who hear: Imagine. Exposed to wind, to grit, to rain and hail, rock faces erode.
Vessel Designated fixed space Sacrosanct container Conveyor through fluid separates Fluidity Creates place, surface to paint. Amusement; diffusement of emotion, beatitude, foment of dueling farce.
Harsh edges polished, pure colors blend in the dark. Brief infusion of giddy illusion glows just enough to guilefully entice. Sparkling Neural net smiles, a secret clue revealing purpose, meaning, engages wild eternal child, ages’ flamboyant fool, Glorious Muse
(Voice rains from within)
A wound is a sacred vessel. Pain carves into flesh sense memory; carries the seed of its own demise. Sentience engulfed in life learns anew to be whole.
Wounded with the potential for wisdom when eyes are are pried from seeping, sucking, suffering aching to censure what future we admire. Redefine the schizm. This wound is our project. To heal, discover the vision; realign the seam to fit self-framed landscape.
Let loose that genie of desire. Ride rushing blood streams. Build a roaring pyre of grief, insane belief in wrathfilled deities. Revile that old refrain: “life is pain” or a game to be lost. No Faustian bargain. Just a rambling adventure daring to explore essence of ecstasy. Don’t wait for the rest to see and demur. Stretch your sail. Take sight of your guiding star. The only failure is self-denial in favor of the vile lie that pain is destiny instead of faithful friend lending energy for change.
Slice vivid memories. Exult in the tastes, the textures. Enliven your way.
In the end the vessel breaks. There the Goddess stirs
Witches Of The Craft® 