blue moon

words

tonight, i am in the garden, sitting under a full moon, seeking solace from a restless, painfully empty bed that will not let me get to sleep. intense wakefulness has sent my mind into overdrive, questions and answers are emerging and buzzing past at the speed of light, too fast to grasp onto, to understand. overhead, the moon hears my sleepless confusion and speaks to me of cycles and fruition, about coming full circle. she asks me to follow her lead as she hangs calmly, listening to the night and the endless flow of thoughts. thoughts woven from words woven from feeling. countless packages of meaning, emotion, and imagery….

when i go outside i feel that the dead of night is pregnant with sound…… i take the sound and wrap it around me, holding it close, a barrier between me and the mind. off in the distance, i hear the incandescent and constant vibration of traffic flows ~ sound waves following hard, grey lines before leaving their asphalt boundary and spreading out like an oil slick, oozing across the dark sea of silence towards where i sit on the grass. a train comes and goes, slicing a curve through the hum as it moves away, towards a nameless destination.

in the trees around me, birds chirp and chatter. i listen to their sounds, unintelligible. to me, they sound happy, excited, but who knows what is really going on, what is really being communicated in the spaces between them…….i think about bird words…. what do they say to one another? on a night like tonight, out here, i imagine what it would be like to have a midnight conversation with one under the light of this gorgeous moon………if i could, i would call one down and i would ask questions that would surely betray my linear human mind: for example, does a butcher bird understand a nightingale? and what about migrating birds, the great nomads of the sky ~does their song change as they shift from place to place? above all, i would ask to learn its’ language…just so i could find some other way to communicate. right now i feel the words i speak/write to be so limiting…..especially under this profound nightsky.

words have become the main transactional currency between us. a code that is produced in a subterranean space then

launched,

written,

whispered

through eager fingers,

given as a gift,

taken back,

then

falling,

sticking,

melting

into me,

into you,

becoming

energy sediment

slowly drifting down,

settling somewhere

at the bottom of the mind.

where does it go from there?

………………..each little package arrives and departs, vibrating with a particular frequency…………moving into and through the spaces between us, transforming through the heart when we feel, our voices when we speak or sing, our hands when we write, the skin when we touch……………..that is what we are, what we do, what i do ~take words and transform them, sending them off, putting them to work. low vibrations into high vibrations, high into low. sometimes intensifying, slowing down, and sometimes simply remaining the same, fossilised. in these past weeks, i have discovered that words do not travel well. across time and space, they can become dangerous when they don’t have the opportunity to be contextualised, made whole by a facial expression, a touch, or a smile. there is always something lost in that intergalactic journey. out of necessity, i flick words across time and space to different people, just like everyone else in this digital version of reality. each time i hope that they will reach their destination intact, but i suspect that many times they do not. and then comes the silence in the spaces between lonely clusters of decontextualised words that travel back and forth. they make me think of nomads, lost in a stark desert searching for water, becoming increasingly desperate as meaning evaporates, changing form, becoming something else…….

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