UKArchive ID: 34531stormwolf
Originally published on March 6, 2015 in Poetry
and so it is. A swan song of sorts 😉
The moon is large tonight.
Sailing on in arid heavens,
For the first time since my arrival here,
the trust has gone.
She waxes and wanes as always
but her song is muted.
Her silvery substance,
What has befallen me
that my lunar connection is severed?
How can the thread so vital
to my tenure, have snapped
and I am still contained?
Her sylvan symphony now hits a dull key
Perhaps, I have expired my cache
of moon-wishing madness.
Destined now to trawl the ground
searching for other-worldly reflection
on frosted leaves
or frozen puddles...
Maybe I simply
ran out of dreams.
Archived comments for Alien Sky
ifyouplease on 06-03-2015
never liked that thing up there always looked suspicious to me, good riddance and goodbye to the dreams and various effects the moon has on planet earth and its mammals. there will be new dreams, the symphony was always dull and repetitive, a hum vibrating straight from hell. that thing up there has a spell on us so consider yourself freed now that you are not a victim of lunar charms. wolves were simply alerting nature for what this crappy satellite was doing. of course the poem could be personally symbolic of other relationships. whichever the case, it was well written and a good thing to read.
Oh Nic, you have no idea what your comment means to me xxx
I understand exactly what you are saying and agree. I think this has been a final key in my awakening but did not expect anyone to see that aspect of it. 😎
As far as the other bit goes...yes, it can be read on several levels and does in fact relate to a feeling of alienation and tiring of the same old thing.
If nobody else reads this poem I have been uplifted that someone read it well.
Mikeverdi on 06-03-2015
That you have any trust left at all is something. I have also viewed the moon with a jaded eye, but then I trust only my own intuition. Your ability to write, and be understood...to leave others breathless upon reading your words must surly bring you joy. Whatever our reasons for writing, it's what we do...and you do it better than most Alison Stormwolf.
Apologies for being so late to reply. Have had the grandkids so not so much time to attend to other things such as responding and reading, which I will do this afternoon.
I think there comes a time in everyone's life when they take stock of things and ask deep searching questions. If there does not, they are living anaware.
Many thanks for your encouragement.
franciman on 06-03-2015
"And thus the native hue of resolution is sickly'd o'er by the pale cast of thought". Shakespeare's Hamlet says it best, but this comes close, if I read it aright. Eyes on the ground is not the stance for you Alison. That would be to peddle the mundane. At times like these return to reading old Omar!
"I heard a voice within the tavern cry,
Awake my little ones and pour the wine
before the measure in the tub runs dry."
Moonlight becomes you it glows with your hair (he hums in Hollywood dissonance)
Bugger peddling the mundane for a laugh! 😉
Yes, at times like this I go to good old Omar maybe with a bit of Kahlil Gibran thrown in for good measure.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and lo! the Bird is on the Wing
'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
“We are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side.”
― Kahlil Gibran
Oooh I have come over all philosophical...I will have to go and lie down in a darkened room now. Alison xx
Bozzz on 06-03-2015
Oh my Dear Alison, this dead, inanimate and almost useless object deserves no thought from mankind save to tease the imagination. Well, the Fosbury flopping cow, the stinking Stilton area, the unwashed man - all fantasy. They live on the printed page, but only its earthly tidal effects and feeble reflective attempts to mimic the sun at night are real. Stay with freedom, stay with science. Plenty else for wolves to consider as interesting subjects for the play of your delightful mind. As to the poem, what more intelligent way to dispose of a childhood fairy story life than rugged frankness - good bye old friend - thanks for the memories..Your loving earthling fellow, David
It is my confirmed belief we come to earth as a school of learning.
There is much pain in the process of inner awakening. I know we differ from our beliefs but strangely too the paradox is that we also sign from the same hymnbook so to speak.
Continuing on the philosophy from Jim's comment and having dug into my books this morning here, are two wonderful sayings that speak for me.
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.
And if you would know God be not therefore a solver of riddles.
Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing with your children.
And look into space; you shall see Him walking in the cloud, outstretching His arms in the lightning and descending in rain.
You shall see Him smiling in flowers, then rising and waving His hands in trees.
That is the God I worship:-) Your fellow nature lover and warrior for right.