Beltane Emergence Moon
I have, uncharacteristically, started and stopped with this post several times. There’s a sleep deprived pall hanging over me, bringing the low-hanging, gray cumulus inside, almost to my psychic ground. It’s hard to see. Catafalques. Black-draped carriages. Heavy. Weighted.
This is the time of the mudsucked boot, the slow drudge through the mindscape where ravens and crows predominate. The pace of movement is measured, no second-lining, no upbeat notes. Where all this originates, I know not. That it comes once in a while is a certainty.
