Crouching
In a misty moment–
Blanketed by dawn
(and a purple velvet cloak).
I peer
Between flared fingers
At nothing, nothing at all.
My chin tilts to the side,
Eyes down, coy,
Like I like them.
It’s a look of mystery,
And even I don’t know what it really means.
What if, who is, could be?
No.
Just
S P A C E
In which I may e x p a n d and contract,
Be whatever I choose:
A spider thinking,
A tree laughing,
A fairy dining on the finest dew…
A bat lurking, sleeping, hanging, hung.
Emotions real
Because I believe in my dream of them.
N O W.
Tomorrow—will be another
Place or time.
Another emotion,
Another me.
Nothing to hold onto.
Change.
All I really have is my love…
And the magic that I make.
(Embodying the Gypsy Muse essence at a NYE party shortly after the poem was crafted. Photo credit: Kyer Wiltshire)
(I wrote this poem several years ago, but thought I’d post it today for my BIRTHDAY. Writing this poem ushered in a kind of spiritual birthday for me–the birth of my “Gypsy Muse”! At that point, it was sort of an alter ego part of my personality. Since then I’ve done much to integrate this essence into my regular, waking life and reality. No longer an alter, she is me! But, this poem is yet another example of the gifts creativity can give us. I’m so grateful for the role poetry has played in my self-development and evolution.)
Diary of a Mystic Gypsy 