Time Tangle

strands_of_time_by_fractalisttranscends

 

Unseen except for a sunrise shimmer
saffron tracings in her fist and the ley lines of power still sparking in her hair
she turns to face the young morning
at first the memories swell and surge
and spill like too much tea in a cup held by shaking hands
but then she stops
breathes
allows the calming to envelope
to lead
and violent purple-reds cool into the color of doves
she moves into the present time
this here and now
with determination
It was a spoken dream which woke Edens gardens
but Eves dreams of fire burnt it down
and now the madness must be undone from time to time
and time again

artwork by fractalisttranscends*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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