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Crossroads

As of now

Everything is crumbling

Drab, drab, drab

The pieces, dead and gray

Fall through my fingers

No longer enlivened

By my breath

I’ve been here before

When the time has come for change

I now feel it in my bones

Recognize it like a panting dog

In these times

The way

Becomes very, very unclear

Facing

This crossroads

The options cloaked in deep, deep darkness

I must sit here, waiting

Hoping She’ll come

Hoping that Dweller will meet me

Hoping Her light will shine on the Path

These hungry hands

These seeking feet

They ache for the Way

Sitting here

On this stump, in darkness

I know there’s these portals

I can’t see them, but I feel their vacuum

I’ve been here for awhile

Watching people, various creatures passing by

Passionate in their direction

Watching them, swallowed

By the inky black as they stride into their certainty

Not one of them stops as they pass

A few, they glance at my crouching figure

But none hold my gaze

None look deeply into my yearning

It’s all business and purpose

It’s all fame and popularity

It’s all marketing and worth

It’s all just marching forward, staying focused

Avoiding breath

Death

Birth

And other fairytales

Why doesn’t anyone linger here?

Question the choice?

Lay down offerings at the mouth of these gaping portals?

Can they not see?

Or do I

Stare at illusion?

All I know, is that regardless

This place is powerful

And that I

Feel disoriented

Here

Casting aside self-doubt

And those tricksy comparisons

I try to kindle my hope

From weak smoldering into flame

I try to envision Her

Emerging from the mouth of Death

Emerging from the mouth of life

Emerging from the mouth

Of shadowy transformations

I try to hold the image of Her

Staff in one hand, glowing lamp in the other

The image of Her, looking at me

Stopping here

Knowing me

Perhaps just Her, sitting with me

While all others pass

Is enough

But that flame keeps her pointing alive

It keeps Her hand, lamp absorbed

In mine

It keeps Her wise, warm body

Next to mine

Breathing

Then rising

Then walking

We’re walking

Together

Into the darkness

And the clear path of my life

This vision holds it

Greeting us, on the other side

Perhaps, however

It’s just Her

Sitting here, at the Crossroads

On this stump

Surrounded by imagined doorways cloaked in shadow

Watching them all pass by

Her, With me

When no one else wants to stop and say a prayer to the blackness

Perhaps it’s just Her

Sitting here, with me

That smoldering hope, I keep alive

Wishing soon for Her to emerge

Laying down offerings

Being invisible

Feeling the unbearable and stripping confusion

Here

On this stump

At the Crossroads

Featured

Right Here

Cool streams of liquid

Cascade over foot

Dragonflies, hovering

Soft moss beneath and

Whispers of leaves gently

Falling

Late summer has come once again

To this hot and wooded valley

And so

So have the questions

A metamorphosis is edging

Old realities crumbling

The mystery beyond, evading

I can’t see the future

I can’t grasp the vision

I want to plan, but there’s nothing to plan to

I know, somewhere, sometime

It all seems to come together

But I forget, over and over

And spin endlessly

In torturous mind

Here

With cool waters trickling

With great and towering trees

Shading

With winged beings buzzing

And the whispers

I realize

I am home

For now

I am home

And I begin to recollect

Here, in this cocoon

All the ways and means and methods

That somehow I have managed to end up

Right here

Right now

With all of my needs met

And with a beating heart

Pumping blood through vital shifting flesh

Right here

Right now

Really, it’s a miracle

The crow caws, winking

And I am not alone

I come to this place often

But not often enough

My mind whisked away to the outskirts of worry

Forgetting

Always forgetting

That metamorphosis happens

Without the caterpillar’s planning

And that when it’s time to emerge

It is suddenly known

I give great credit

To the furrowing in my brow, however

It has helped me survive many a dangerous turn

Perhaps it is this memory

I seek to prevent

But can I?

Is there any way the cocoon can control

What lies outside, waiting

For its tender new form?

I wonder if the pupal soup

Ever uses its imaginal cells

To imagine danger

Like I do

Thinking of what’s beyond

Suddenly giving rise to panic

So in these times

When I’ve swirled so far away

I try

I try to remember

Right here

Right now

The cocoon

I am a butterfly

And a larvae

And the soup

Constantly changing

Constantly morphing, transmuting

I just hope I get better

At remembering not to forget

Right here

Right now

Cool waters sluicing between toeskin

And all my needs met

As another leaf falls

Whispering

CPU

The swirlings have begun again

The ancestors, knocking

The babies, crying

The choices, beckoning

The holographic realizations, expanding

The foundations, crumbling

The blazing electrical rerouting, destroying

I keep freezing

This CPU, once able to conduct

What flows through me

Is breaking, again

The terror of its outmoded form

Dissolving

Although timely

Haunts my days

Beckoned, once again

To step into new clothes, new understanding

New wakings, new dyings

These circuit boards are blitzing out

Frequent blankness

Random shut downs

Booting issues

All of these apply

To this slowly failing

Outmoded processing unit

If you calculate the ancestors

That may be waiting to download

Waiting for the seventh son of a seventh son

To finally heal the lines

It doesn’t take that long

To get into the thousands

Thousands waiting

Thousands hovering

Thousands begging

For the one to receive

Thousands of wounds

Thousands of traumas

Thousands of wisdoms

Thousands

This CPU once had blocking features

To not feel it all, throbbing

But the last upgrade

Advertised the removal of this feature

As a bonus

“Now including ancestral awareness”

I feel them

All

Waiting

Thousands

Waiting

Thousands

Wanting

Thousands

Hoping

That I will finally see

That I will carry the essence, magick

The whole of the bloodline sparkle

Clear the misunderstandings

Heal the torn fibers

Alchemize the great and pulsing mass

Into the once true beauty of the well ones

No pressure, eh?

Perhaps it is only I that imagines

But regardless

I can feel the throbbing

I can feel the freezing

I can feel the increasing rate of blips

Occurring in my way of going about it all

I can feel

This circuit board failing

Heavy and pathways jagged

If only by my imagined load

But still it’s real

From the four to the five

And hopefully, eventually

To the six

The old ways of holding

Are breaking down

I’ve been here before

Oh, sacred Tower

Oh sacred Nigredo

I know the downward spiral

The unraveling to a new beginning

It used to cause great upheaval

It used to cause me to run

Sanity imploding

Holding onto to mere threadlines

Doing extreme things

To get something bigger to contain me

Not knowing what was happening

The institution was the only safe place

I can understand now

Why I, and many

Keep returning

But lately, although shaken

I no longer scurry

It’s almost routine

I feel it coming, know what’s happening

And a switch called surrender

A switch called opening

A switch called receiving and curiousity

And an especially helpful feature called

Peaceful

Floating

In the Great

Abyss

Automatically it starts running

Holding me through

As this CPU falters

I realize the coming

Of the hand of a larger technician, replacing

I do my best

To settle back

To switch on the trust mode

Floating in that hollow unknown

As the new

And the old

Circuitry

Lifts and settles

One more time

To ready me

To carry

The thousand watt currents

Of the waiting

Ancient future