It feels so disconcerting

this paradigm shift,

that tramples through my thoughts like, shadows gray;

if I start to yield a comfort

because a spin doctor's around,

then my resolve has just begun it's sad, decay.

You may completely know this

shearing of our ledgers,

it happens as with a whisper at the dawn;

yet, everyone still heard

each perpetuated lie,

they can start, & end the shearings' on our lawns.

No sadder fate exists in life

than being drawn, & led astray;

Barefoot into the blush
of dawn's rose petalled suffusion
permeating the essences of night and day,
as orion guides the eye towards the sky,
where slipping gently off,
the garments of the night, that faded
into the oblivion of deep dark space.

I think of women,
Ancestors of my sisterhood,
Centuries before my birth,
How they were oppressed and suppressed,
For their sex, race or ideals,

I think of women,
Who struggled with infirmities,
Who were called crazy,
Branded witches or harlots,
For their desire to be independent,

How would I have fared in their eras?

Those stifled out by society,
Those hushed by authority,
Artists and dreamers alike,
Punished for their fight,
Shunned for their light,

Gobekli Tepe

‘Neath layers of barren Turkish soil it rises like a dream
built by folk who had no tools or even pots of clay
older than the Pyramids or Stonehenge, it would seem,
another ancient mystery that challenges today