The Gift Of Elden Romance ...

The Gift Of Elden Romance ...

The easiest place to find magic,

At first blush it must be,

The eyes of a child in amazement,

A playground filled with novelty and make-believe.

We all roam those places in our hearts,

The watercolors of young memories,

Aglow with the magic we can no longer touch.

The faces and voices of those gone on rendered as late-evening cameo,

Misty,

Wisty,

Haven inside.

The thunder of clocks and cash eats our lives all grown,

The places we once knew barren as twig sticks and Winter trees,

For the leaves that fell after Autumn were the magic of them,

They are the real-life skeletons of bygone days,

The bones of the treasures inside us.

Yet I wonder,

When Autumn turns to early Winter in our own weave,

The strings of clocks and gold stretched and frayed,

Might we catch again whispers of magic,

These stories of elden romance we hold,

In the old sense,

The true sense,

Maybe waiting for us to paint-fill a willing open eye,

Or softly pen it to poetry,

If only an ear will hear,

The gift of elden romance.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/30/2023

A Compass I Can Read...

A Compass I Can Read...

Being online these days is jarring,

Disquieting,

Something inescapable even in the wee hours.

Algorithms and AI battle like tin soldiers of the mind,

Interspersed with the snake-rattles of commercial hucksterism,

An outright attack on attention and focus,

Nickel-and-dime scalpel cuts,

Our abraded collective soul weary,

A burr under the saddle of civilization,

The constant buzz and crack of intellect's corrosion.

I find refuge in the finite confines of paper and old sites,

A haven from pop-up battering rams,

A quiet sea of quiet at three o'clock in the morning.

Finally I can cast my line,

Play with thought fish,

Come home with a story of words on my string 

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/29/2023

Sometimes I Really Miss The Olden Days...

Sometimes I Really Miss The Olden Days...


I almost feel like singing Auld Lang Syne.

But I just don't have the time.

The corporate world is calling.

And calling.

And calling.

Calling.

AquarianM

(C) 10/218/2023 By: Daniel A. Stafford

Ode To The Fox...

Ode To The Fox...

Words,

We all play with them,

Dance with them,

Use those words to heal or hurt,

Spinning out of our hearts,

Our essense,

More a soul window than any eye.

The Fox gave those words a home,

Always used the kind ones,

The encouraging ones,

A lavishment of grace.

For those words,

We' ll always be thankful.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/28/2023

Queen 👑 Foxy, thank you, and RIP.

When Autumn Comes...

When Autumn Comes...

Love will break you in the springtime,

Love will burn you,

Baby,

Oh,

In the Summer Sun.

But,

Oh,

Oh,

Oh,

When Autumn comes,

If you're lucky Baby,

That's when the healing,

Starts to,

Get done.

You might wonder,

Honey,

In the dark of night,

If there'll be anything left of you,

By the cold white of Winter's night.

The wind might be howling,

Lover,

As you shiver to the bone,

Watching the hourglass,

Curled up and feeling all alone,

Nowhere,

Darling,

Feels like home.

But,

Oh,

Oh,

Oh,

When Autumn comes,

If you're lucky Baby,

That's when the healing,

Starts to,

Get done.

When I think on you and me,

Baby we,

We're the lucky ones.

But,

Oh,

Oh,

Oh,

When Autumn comes,

If you're lucky Baby,

That's when the healing,

Starts to,

Get done.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/16/2022

Bearing Water For Pluto...

Bearing Water For Pluto...

As October steamrolls Psyche in a flush of rouge leaves dabbling with wind and moving air,

Stars and planets circle our underminds,

A dance of quantum symbology and metaphor.

Ravens whisper drumbeats in Aquarius's inner ear,

Waters slosh within the urn we carry,

Full of the knowledge of Plutonian dreams as we dance with Pluto at the doorway,

Prescient of two decades coming sojourn,

What waters will we drink and pour,

After the Hadean trail is traipsed?

I doubt the relief of Styxian waters,

For we are bound to the dock of the Ferryman,

Living a clockwork journey we were born into.

I wonder, 

Wonder at Persephone's bravery,

Will we break bread with her?

Soon enough we must leave the dock,

Who knows,

Who knows,

The cost,

The coins,

The epic journey to come?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 10/08/2023

Notes: 

Mentally trying to prepare for 20 years of Pluto transiting Aquarius ♒.

DALL-E prompt:

 "Hades walking up out of a cave door to the underworld under an annular eclipse as a shaman with a raven perched on his shoulder beats a drum next to a campfire and the high Priestess of tarot in purple robes floats in the sky over the cave door and autumn leaves are falling in watercolor"