At the Core is Another Core…

 

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Cored out.

Having to find the core.

Build a core after the old one is lost.

Realise it’s not the core.

Is there one?

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

Only in dreams.

Only in a dream of you.

A dream where you are, and aren’t.

A dream of a ceiba tree.

The world tree.

A tree in layers.

Peeling back the layers.

Layers of an ogre’s onions?

But there’s no more.

Onions.

Self.

The pantry is empty.

The self is gone.

Alone.

You.

Your self.

Your words echo

Through all my cores.

Through all my lives, and dreams.

Filling all of my fault lines.

Faults I can’t hide.

So many cracks.

Bare.

Exposed.

But I want.

I want to see.

I see you just as you are.

And am seen.

Seen just as I am.

Core.

Cores.

Cores connected.

Binary.

Binary stars.

How are we classified now?

 

 

No Disney Mermaids, Here


No Disney Mermaids, Here
No Disney mermaids, here,
in a predawn net of dreams
that won't let me go.
But that's not quite true. 
I hold onto them, too, over reality
because life is the nightmare that's real.
And so I drown, at long last, in tangled water,
choosing the insanity, where
water becomes a hand. 
And I hold onto it, too,
because I'm also scared to drown, 
even in this wonder of dreams.
We're not Disney mermaids; not svelte, with lovely voices, and
it's suddenly fine that we are our real selves.
The ones battered by storms and rocks, that have many scars,
and that we drown together
in this space between worlds. 
Because that is the love we need.
A something real one. A strong one.
But our waking thoughts try to rip us apart.
I feel your hand in mine, still, and I don't
let go, but it's hard to make the tea that will
bring me back to the world I hate.
But it's that world that brings me
your message in a drowning bottle.
And I'm glad I haven't let go.

Of the Heart of the Storm

Of the Heart of the Storm

Madness swirls, here

this world of paradox and confusion

where ravens are kind, and

promise redemption.

On their wings, I fly into the eye

of my storm, where 

in ice and shadows and all things secret,

your light softly shines,

bringing me home

for the last time.

 –Willow Croft

 

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Egmont Key Lighthouse (Photo Copyright by Willow Croft 2018)

 

 

Caretaker

Caretaker

In this maze of dreams,

we are both lost and found

chasing each other like ghosts

up and down corridors and

through walls.

I follow lipstick’d messages

that blaze scarlet in this

endless dark.

Sometimes I hear you crying

in the looking-glass

where

I can’t leave you anything

but smeary hand prints.

Your rooms, caretaker,

are gathering more dust

with each passing year.

I want to find you,

bring you out of this madness, our ancient storm

into a world without walls and shadows

where we dance on rainbows

drink dew

and fly away on butterfly wings.

 

–Willow Croft

 

 

 

The Synchronicity: Fire

 

Wrote a poem about an hour or so ago to submit to a contest, titled Bonfire. It was the day of bonfires earlier this week, which probably inspired it.

But, I’m a water person, usually. Water, coolness, rain, overcast skies. Yet, a fire elemental has been making its presence known. Hence the other part of the inspiration. In dreams. In random thoughts. In my poetry. In waking life. Then I signed back online to enter the poem. And encountered more fire synchronicity to wrap up the week. I feel a little haunted and eerie, even though I largely accept Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s practical/scientific view(s) on such mental/emotional phenomenon.

So I used the poem I wrote  for the contest to siphon off some of the feelings towards the fire element I’ve been having lately. A short story for another contest is going to hold some more. And the leftover I was planning on putting in another poem for share on here, sometime soon. But now I feel like a mimic, albeit unintentional. And it’s nice to muse on, but I’m not sure whether I also believe in Jung’s theory of collective unconsciousness (or my interpretation of said theory).

Still, words clamour inside my head to be let out. To be heard. And, like most writers, I can only release them, and hope they are heard by those who need them the most. Who are listening with the right-place-right-time heart. And maybe they will be someone else’s synchronicity.

Ouroboros

The snake catches fire.
I burn it to be free
of this infinite loop.
Of walking in circles
Spiralling around from dreams to life and back again.
Yet, I love being lost in the maze and
trapped in this mystery.
Are these glimpses more fulfilling
than the reality of you?
The poet in me asked the void.
I defend myself.
I burn the bridge, I say,
because I’m tired of darkness and shadows and half truths and ghosts that go bump
inside my head.
I want fire.
I want to scorch my world to cinders.
And I want you to be the water,
this time,
from which my phoenix is born.

–Willow Croft

 

The Voyage Begins…

 

“Quantum Singularity is a voyage through time and space. This poetic journey crosses oceans, traverses other realms, gets lost in the past, and disappears into the future. Choose the right path; the path that leads to the corner of Cosmos and Infinity, and the way will never be lost.”

You are welcome to join me on my voyage through time and space.

Purchase your ticket here:

https://www.createspace.com/7159342

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1546682147

I’ll be planning some visits to the Goodreads realm, as soon as my author page is up.

Hope you enjoy the magic!