Door 777

 I see a darkened room, with only a candle flame to light it up. I hear the pitter patter of rain against the wooden windows, I feel a droplet of water leak onto my head from the ceiling.

Here I stand, in the attic of my mind--dust and cobwebs parade around its walls--

and there is a slight eeriness that subtly passes by as if to only slightly be seen--and an old woman--

I ignored her before, but here she stands in a need to be acknowledged 

as she hunches over near the candle flame...

veiled beneath a black gown--unseen yet deeply felt

she is one of the wise ones. The tattoo on her hand matching that of the symbol written above the window pane--      O

arranging stones and little small vessels around the candle--constructing a language for the unseen...

I stare up into the mirror at my own reflection-- hers non-existent through the looking glass--

and then--

 suddenly leaves circled my body in their descent

and the once darkened attic of the mind unfolded into a forest of autumn trees

I do not know this place in time...

only that curiosity rests
here...

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Welcome to Day 1 of my two-week poetry series. I will be going on a 2-week venture of writing exercises to get my creative spirit in flow, which allows me to dive deeper into how I write--yes--but also, will help me dive deeper into my wisdom and insights from the universe. So--follow along this journey if you desire, and comment below the insights you may receive from these pieces. 

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