|picture source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/375909900124333457/|
I am the chill of premonition in the weak light of the morning, when content and context have no meaning or relation, to the tumbling thoughts relevant to the day that is passing in front of your open eyes as you stall, hover, unable to induce motion into your limbs that heed vibrations your waking being, cannot perceive.
I am the forgotten moon that rises late afternoon while you are rushing through a To Do list that will in no way comfort the lonely hours of the night, when images tear you from a restless sleep with skeletons rattling through the stillness of the shadows,
I am the Cheshire Cat that feeds mischief into your heart and into your head, that lets out the frivolous teen you keep carefully controlled and in line lest you be thought of as a child, and I lead you to indulgences which will curl up your lips when you’re resting in the shade of the oak tree, the one you once protected, which now protects you, in turn.
And I am the howling wolf, the centre of every urban legend, of lovers and serial killers, of madness and sanity. To broken hearts and soaring dreams I speak with words no-one can hear, but feel the ripple of anticipation when a blessing I bestow on you, so too the shiver of a warning when your intentions do not align, fore I am the silver sheet of protection that dusts every sleeping soul I see.