As was to be expected, the oracle produced a mixed bag this morning.
Like a chant,
raw and bitter,
a black wind blows,
ripping through sea mists,
it storms the sun,
putting dreams to sleep
in the shadow of the moon.
The promise of light grows,
through the gentle night.
Winged music
and star songs run,
river-like,
into the sun.
Listen!
At dusk the breeze grows gentle,
full of summer secrets
and river songs.
I follow the path
through the quiet shade,
where the wild earth breathes
in bright blue peace.
Night growls its secrets,
steely fish listen to angel voices.
Drink this cool cup
to the dark sky,
embrace the rhythms of the dance,
wake up to joy,
slowly sailing
the wild salt ocean
of my heart.