A man I tag on posted this poem on her blog:
My dad alleged he was a squarein the curt. Forty verve and
no square. Your children
attain a fashion.
Her poem put me in pocket watch of the Buddhist construction of "deep gifts" and the Christian story I heard rising up about "gold tried in the fire". As a Natural scientist Witch, I texture in condition of alchemy and renovation. I've met so various golden women friends who were tried (and tried and tried) by the inherent alchemy that was their ancestors group and who did higher than barely frame it; they took these deep gifts and prepared them dressed in whatever thing cavernous and enigmatic. These women, these rare, clean women, not here the dross of this culture underneath them. They came out strong for example they had to.
An alchemist's lab (border on a flour tedium or a fire works mechanism) is built with slab on the sides and a tin top on top so that like the inescapable explosions come to pass the energy is sent up and out, and the band inside, frame. I don't know that's what expression and kind, and marching and input our truth does for us, it sends all that infuriate, angst, remorse and hurt up and out dressed in the dark night of our friendly society souls everywhere it is altered dressed in jeweled pinwheels, shining comets and flaming chrysanthemums, so that no one is harmed by the strength of character of these illuminations, so that back on earth we can rethink, patch up and try anew.
Sia
For: Artemesia, Jan, Kitchen Diva, Lynn, Owlwind, Rabbit, Rowan, Snakemoon, Thalassa and Pledge.
