Moira’s nightly weaving

Moira’s nightly weaving
Beginning evermore!
Silver threads spinning pass orbiting space debris,
so delicately the bundle on spindle

Measured in spoonfuls of three
Dropped in the cauldron of quintessence
Simmering down to mortal coils
Cut with the mystic’s wand

Swirling web of blood prisms,
Poured into marrow vessels
Weld through the mouth of iron-flint fabric
To emerge the fractal fire pattern

Seam by seam….determining
How sudden is the sever day
How quick is the tangled night

Art: Sól Hrafnsdóttir


The Colors Swell

What terrors?
surprises us out of our pleasures
Guzzling down demi-gods,
for a chance to walk down
that black opal bridge
Into the portal masterpiece;
a collection of reveries

The bleeding blot comes to me
in a green night
Enveloped in a vibration
A Rothko blur
Move backwards into chatoyancy
Waited eons to be scanned by those eyes
Like magnetic mountains pulled and left fragments of a ship
A fragile line,
as flowers are in the wintertime

The moonglow glittering
A buoyant royal blue
hovering over the golden velvet valley
A drowsy hum
Descending towards the door,
Where the heart is full


Earthly voids & Spiritual quest

Ancient Cradle

Let us suspend our time together.
Provided the sun rays
will still touch this cracked orb;
Of disillusion of tightly webbings,
flushed in ambivalence.
Bring me back into memories that soar above what satisfies in the night.
We are bits of surreal between fossilized markings of an antique sculptured land.
We bleed out, suffuse our ideals
in rhythmic red.
Your perfect sound
meets my silent presence.
Throbbing in the wind
under the archway,
rocking back the night.