i try to take deep breaths and allow the world to be but i swear this life will be the death of me
the gurus say wake up and simply let go but i'm reminded "as above so below" storm clouds are brewing overhead i'm beginning to believe we've been mislead by social media, the news and all the talking heads the conflicting opinions and fake stories they spread
i must reclaim my life and cancel my subscriptions to cable tv, facebook, twitter and simply listen
to the healing sounds of mother earth, the rivers and the trees when i die, let mother nature be the death of me
♥ ♥♥ the practice of yarling has long been a tradition in the Coven of Obscurity for release of sorrows, regrets, anger, and other forms of menacing emotion. witches arrive from far and wide for the annual yarling festival held deep in the Forest of Obscurity. chants of "let it go, let it be, release it, and set it free" followed by moans, groans, and guttural howls rumbling through the circle spiraling into the great abyss as the fire rages on and the witches purge the darkness from their hearts and then they have tea ♥♥ ♥
~ Elizabeth Anne Ives Archivist, Coven of Obscurity
what is the penance for losing one's mind? is there a price to pay for a broken heart in kind? i say, such suffering should be calculated and added to the sums. when my time is up, this cursed suffering must be done! self-inflicted, i'm not ashamed to admit. it scratches at me, tearing my every thought to bits. it's futile to stop it, distract it or find peace. my penance is your glory as i suffer at your feet
~ Elizabeth Anne Ives Archivist, Coven of Obscurity
Day 28
Note: This poem continues the story of the Witches from The Coven of Obscurity, introduced in my A to Z blogging challenge.
sister, do you remember our walk down the ancient road? we broke through the woods where the river flowed. we gathered feathers and rocks and twigs of all shapes our baskets overflowing, we soon filled our capes. the others called out as we ran toward the blaze. we were sisters and maidens of the moon's waxing phase. those were the years we danced in our dreams. decades gone, i can still hear your screams the night they tore you away from the witch of the woods, but a bond made in blood forever endures
~ Elizabeth Anne Ives Archivist, Coven of Obscurity Poem written for Sister Six
virtually speaking, what is there to say in this dark, lonely, desolate place where there are too many virtual games to play reality is brutal why immerse yourself in the dark of more virtual game-play is it to die and die and live to die another day or simply to escape the slow death of reality by practicing your resurrection over and over in the virtual darkness where death after death you shed your one true weakness: fear
