Slipped past my sight...
Oct. 18th, 2002 03:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witchscauldronSomething Changed today. Not a change, but a Change. I've lost Autumn.
I do not feel the last glory of the earth anymore - only the withering of the vine, the fading of the colours, the soul-sucking dampness that permiates both the ground and the air. I do not feel vitality in the air anymore - only the bone-cracking chill, the sharp nip of hoarfrost, and a lingering sense of Winter's coming.
It's not even No-Time yet. Hell, it's not even Blood Moon yet. And already I have lost the vestiges of harvest and only feel ghosts and impressions of decay. Each breath of wind is another voice, another blast of His horn. Harvest is well and truly gone for me; the golds and reds and oranges, while they are still visible, do not linger in my spirit's sight. I see instead the browning field, the hidden Tuatha, and the year's end. I change His altar today - from red to black, dried oakleaves only, and the flickering shadows on the wall.
I dreamt of her last night - an old dream, but one I thought I had worked through and past, gone by. Names have power, and I will name no names of her. Still she haunts me, and somehow I think at this time of year she always will. She was dressed egyptian linen, a fine heavy collar of stone beads in green and copper to accompany it. Something she said she ordered a long while ago and is now recieving...She left me holding her collar, weighty in my fingers. She left me to search for a new pentacle, and black candles that pleased her.
She left me, as I have come to expect. She never stays until I wake. Her birthday was earlier this month. She only haunts me at this time of year. I should have learned from her to never love a Libra...
Love, and loss, and lonliness...what a melancholy day. Chased by shadows. I need to be the Hunter, not the Hunted. Time for me to Change as well.
I do not feel the last glory of the earth anymore - only the withering of the vine, the fading of the colours, the soul-sucking dampness that permiates both the ground and the air. I do not feel vitality in the air anymore - only the bone-cracking chill, the sharp nip of hoarfrost, and a lingering sense of Winter's coming.
It's not even No-Time yet. Hell, it's not even Blood Moon yet. And already I have lost the vestiges of harvest and only feel ghosts and impressions of decay. Each breath of wind is another voice, another blast of His horn. Harvest is well and truly gone for me; the golds and reds and oranges, while they are still visible, do not linger in my spirit's sight. I see instead the browning field, the hidden Tuatha, and the year's end. I change His altar today - from red to black, dried oakleaves only, and the flickering shadows on the wall.
I dreamt of her last night - an old dream, but one I thought I had worked through and past, gone by. Names have power, and I will name no names of her. Still she haunts me, and somehow I think at this time of year she always will. She was dressed egyptian linen, a fine heavy collar of stone beads in green and copper to accompany it. Something she said she ordered a long while ago and is now recieving...She left me holding her collar, weighty in my fingers. She left me to search for a new pentacle, and black candles that pleased her.
She left me, as I have come to expect. She never stays until I wake. Her birthday was earlier this month. She only haunts me at this time of year. I should have learned from her to never love a Libra...
Love, and loss, and lonliness...what a melancholy day. Chased by shadows. I need to be the Hunter, not the Hunted. Time for me to Change as well.