Penelopy Fey's Blog

Seasons of Love

penelopyfey — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 02:28:48 +0000

I walked today in the woods, and breathed in the fall and felt it reach every corner of my soul. I breathed it in like one inhales the scent of a wild rose, or the perfume of a lover. I breathed in the air, the autumn smell, and I breathed in the colors that were painted on the canvas of trees that surrounded me. I watched the mirror of water reflect the fire of orange, yellow and gold, completely undisturbed, not a ripple. A perfect reflection of what is. And so I sat in silence revelling in a perfect reflection of what is. Perfection is not perfect, and neither are we, but what is, IS perfect, and changing and evolving, from Winter to Fall. We knew nothing in the winter of our lives, other than the mystery, other than just knowing that the other was out there somewhere. The days were short, and the dream filled nights long. We lived carelessly and young and naively in the Spring and love bloomed like lilies. And in the Summer, we had long, long days. We lived, and grew and explored, we weathered droughts, when the water of our lives was nowhere to be found, and here in the Fall, the leaves glow fiery, like the embers of passion. They fall, slowly dancing in a graceful waltz of love, timeless and wizened and returning to the Earth. To the beginning.

Stranger Child

penelopyfey — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 17:30:20 +0000

As I looked across the picnic table into the innocent young blue eyes, I saw all the dreams I’ve ever dreamed and saw all the love I’ve ever loved, and I nearly crumbled. I was the mother looking into the eyes of a stranger child that should have been mine. She looked at me intently with all the innocence that belongs to a three year old, but with all the wisdom beneath that belongs to a seer. In her face, and her mannerisms, her father was clear. The man I’ve loved for so long, looked back at me through the girl across the table, and I fell in love all over again. In an instant, after after the initial gut wrenching maternal pain I felt, I knew that I would do anything for this child, for this girl who doesn’t even know me. I wonder if she could see the unshed tears in my eyes, and I wonder if she’ll ever know why. My love, I know he did, and I know it was torture for him to not hold me, just then. What a miracle he created, she is his most beautiful creation ever.

Late Summer

penelopyfey — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 19:53:39 +0000

In a clearing, surrounded by forest, a fire burns, tall and hot and wild. Tongues of flames dance seductively, moving, swaying, touching the night sky, kissing the air opened mouthed like a lover. Stars overhead burn bright as if light-years were mere inches, as if I could touch them and hold the dreams they carry in my hand. The air is spiced like aged mead with scents and perfumes of late summer freedom. In the light of day, the September sun burns bright, announcing the colors of oak and birch. They cling to the green season, but a splash of color betrays the defiant summer nature, and shines through with the occasional red and gold flare. By night, though, the earth takes on hues of violet and silver, rich with sleeping desire, and the fire burns hot with passion. Living shadows cast from the flames dance in a circle, a boundary, a line where night meets fire and magic is set free. Here, where the shadows dance, my eyes close and my defenses weaken. Here, there is a natural rhythm, a need to sway to the primal beat of my heart. The winds sing, and the fire dances, and I embrace both, and they embrace me, and here where fire meets night, I soar with the magic that only you can summon. Kiss me. Take me, for here, in your presence, I am not a warrior. I am not ice. And I am not strong, because here, I fall to my knees for you. Here, you are my warrior and my strength and here you are everything a man should be. Here, where the moss and the tall grass pillow the earth, I fall to my knees and give thanks to the gods that you were made for me, and I for you. I welcome your touch and your breath, your very life. I need you now, in the way that women have needed men since the dawn of time. I tremble in anticipation, and desire warms me on the inside as much as the fire on my skin, and as I look up at you, I am awestricken, my heart pounds, and my breath catches and my skin aches for your touch. I long to open myself to you, and take you inside of me, so that your soul fills the darkest corners of my own. Fill me with your desire, and remind me that I am a woman. Here in the late summer of our lives.

Walking on Air

penelopyfey — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 18:25:43 +0000

There are times when my heart just soars. My soul is set free and my head is in the clouds. These times are the times that I thank the Gods that I am who I am and that I walk the path that I walk. I have no regrets, and only happiness in my thoughts of days to come. I walked through the forest, for a midday break, and I felt like I was walking on air. There was music in my head and a most contented smile on my face. This very moment I felt touched by an unseen force, and I know that I am loved. And knowing this is like finding the answers I’ve spent my life searching for. I feel a completeness and a wholeness that I have missed, and lifts me. It lifts me like nothing else in the world can lift me. It strips from me my defenses, and in that very sense, in that exacting moment of naked freedom, I feel stronger. I feel stronger and it is a relief. I feel as if I have the arms of a warrior around me, and nothing, absolutely nothing can undo this. My walls of self preservation crumble, and it is like lifting a thousand pounds off my shoulders. And I walk on air. And all for love.

Avalanche

penelopyfey — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 13:49:43 +0000

I went yesterday for a late afternoon hike. As the shadows grew long and the sunshine grew soft, I let my mind wander. My feet know the way, and my body needs no direction, so my eyes watched the forest, and my mind searched my heart. Late August wind lifted my hair and kissed my face. And the song I heard was spellbinding. Birds, of all sorts, cooing and chirping. A morning dove calling a late afternoon call, and turkey were frolicking off to the West. Crickets were loud, with end of day near, and water flowed freely down the hill, gurgling and bubbling through culvets laid two hundred years ago. The foundations I am so familiar with, took on yet a new glow in the long shadows of August sun. Drained of water now, and carpeted with leaves, it is easy to stand inside, with the walls built up around, and imagine and wonder. Two hundred years ago, a wife prepared supper here, the fire was lit in the fireplace, and her husband was out tending the land and keeping them fed. A hard life, but simple, and I find myself jealous of it. But for now, I can just imagine, and let it take me away.

I continued my hike upward, heating up, and slowing down with the incline. All the while letting my mind wander and race. Like letting an animal run wild, with no direction, no reigns. No matter what though, it always returns to the same. Not money, not work, not vanity nor prosperity. These all mean so little to me. Life and love, and purpose. Mother Nature, always putting things in perspective. Forever reminding me that I am but a small part of her. But a piece nonetheless. My heart aches with the beauty of the forest, and even after hiking here a thousand times, my eyes grow wide with wonder and amazement, and I feel loved. Unconditionally. My heart also aches for the love of a man, the touch of he who moves me. I know I have it, his undying love, and it lifts me to heights in the heavens. It is overwhelming. An avalanche of emotion, and I need time here, in my forest, to speak with my Mother, and listen to her wind, to ground me again.

The answers are here, how to survive the avalanche, and how to love and how to accept love. I sat on top, and then I laid and watched the clouds. And the wind moved over my body, and the rock was solid beneath. Life is such a mystery, and here are all the answers, I just don’t know how to read them yet. But until I do, I will ride the avalanche and watch the sky.

Gravity

penelopyfey — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 00:01:39 +0000

Sometimes the gravity of an event takes minutes to sink in, and sometimes hours. Like symptoms of shock. Sometimes the gravity of a given event takes days, and then you find yourself staring at picture and your mind shuts down, and your emotions start buckling. I thought my emotional dam broke free two weeks ago, but I was wrong, that was a crack, a mere crevice in my sanity wide enough just to peak in and catch a glimpse of my broken soul.

Years have passed, and it took only two weeks of heartbreaking words to lead us back into each others arms, and it is as if no time passed, yet in the same, it was an eternity. That was a couple of days ago, when I felt his strength, and touched his skin, and kissed his lips for the first time in years. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and I fear my words do not do it justice.

In the past I have been accused of many things, and amongst those most truthful, is a coldness. I have lived, and lived well, and found my passion through our great Mother Nature, and I express it in my writing. And as is the way of hearts who have lost their ways, I had no love to give to any man. I knew why, because I gave it away, to the perfect mirror of my soul. There is no match of his likeness, because his likeness is my likeness. I am his and he is mine. I knew, in the depths of my illogical knowing, that the day would come when our paths would cross, however, I thought it to be in the far and distant future. Now, in the face of my own foreshadowing, he has sought me, and I very nearly swooned with it.

That was a couple days ago. And today my head spins. I felt it in his arms, while the owl held my gaze in a nearby tree. I felt it in his arms while his lips sought mine with the passion I have longed for. I felt it in his arms when we had to part ways. I felt it the entire time, the headspinning, breathless, inability to speak, bliss. But today, it hit me full force. The reality of it all. A dream, a sweet, sweet dream that I had tucked away into the corners of my heart had manifested itself into present day reality. Years of missing a piece of myself came crashing down on me. Years of wondering, years of knowing he was ever-present in my thoughts and my dreams, of joining on the astral, years came down on me like a hard, warm rain today. It took two days for the reality of his touch to pierce my ice, to permeate my snow bound emotions. Today, I know he exists, and I know without a doubt, that he is truly my soul mate. The most beautiful version of my very own soul. And worth waiting a lifetime for.

Better to have loved and lost? I think not, ’tis better to have never known it and dreamt of it, than to have lost it. But, in the case that you had it, and perhaps shared a separate journey, and the two paths still lead you back to each other, then, then true love is worth is the wait of a lifetime. Then you know it is true, because perhaps, if true love IS true love, you never really lose it.

the Mighty Oak

penelopyfey — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 12:36:55 +0000

Where does one begin, when a lifetime is realized in five minutes? Perhaps the beginning? No, that’s an entire book.

There is a mighty Oak that grows

beside the mystic pool

where lovers met and exchanged their vows

and in secret they renew.

Through war and peace and love and loss

they forged a mighty bond.

And through the ages they had lived

and life has come and gone.

Each time is new and realized

within the first five minutes,

an awakening of souls

whose hearts know no limits.

It is by this Oak where love has bloomed

in the shadow of His leaves,

that lovers lay in waiting

on that sacred blessed eve

when after their paths have met

after the long, long journey

the lovers have eachother

for the rest of all eternity.

Rain inspired.

Lightening powered.

Coyote and the Blackbird

penelopyfey — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 03:50:09 +0000

“Dance with me,” She calls to the night, and the night whispers back, ”I am.”

“Dance with me,” She whispers back, and winds kick up the sand.

“Fly with me,” She sings aloud, and the black bird answers “Yes.”

”Fly with me,” She whispers soft, and the wings spread wide abreast.

“Come to me,” She asks, the coyote nods his will.

“Come to me,” She whispers, and the coyote advances still.

The sky and the earth combined as one, a tempest of wind and fate,

And in the end, fire, water, earth and air joined the two soul mates.

Beyond Sight

penelopyfey — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 02:51:30 +0000

The air tonight is still, with the promise of rain in the darkness. Theres a nearly full moon, hidden completely, and I imagine on the heavenly side of these clouds, it must be a vision to behold. It is the things that we cannot see, or perhaps the things we cannot touch, that bring such beauty to our lives through wonder and dreams. I wish to fly, like a black bird in the night, to the other side. Unseen, and un-interrupting. Incognito. I want to soar and touch the silver that is the moonlight. I want to look deep into the wonders of the universe, and then plunge recklessly into the blue-green hazel abyss that is my mystical forest. I want to free fall from the heavens, knowing I have wings. I want run with my coyote, with abandon through the woods and then throw myself to ground, a breathless and content woman. All these things, from a rainy and overcast night. And the beauty just beyond sight.

Tall Grass

penelopyfey — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 13:12:06 +0000

The evening last night was glorious, the stars shown bright and the moon shown silver and majestic, only slivers from full. The trees rustled only slightly and bullfrogs and crickets chirped a night-time waltz for my ears only. The grass was wet with midnight dew beneath my bare feet and brought a smile reserved for children to my face. I stood in the tall grass, hidden by darkness of night, but lit by lunar glow. My skin, being as fair as it is, glowed an unearthy blue-gray, and around me the trees looked monotone and other worldly in the late night illumination. At twilight here, the heavens cast colors of love and sleep, pinks and purples lay heavily on the trees and gardens, at dawn, the foliage shows orange and fiery, and yellow and soothing simultaneously, but here at night, it is like walking into a Shakespearean dream.

It is amazing to me, the wonders of this earth. How amidst all that is wrong and all that is hateful and angry in the world of civilization, that still and forever exists the beauty of Mother Nature. If there is one secret place that I can hold dear, I needn’t ever worry of familiarity, because the one secret place is ever changing, growing, evolving and being shown in different light. And if I take the time, if I stand in the tall grass and breathe in the colors, I can can relate and life makes more sense. I have stood here countless times before, and every time it is new. I have thought in the past that I have seen beauty unsurpassed, and still last night, in my Shakespearean wonderland, I saw beauty again in different light, and am reassured that in the future, I will see again, and I will sigh in awe again, and I will wonder again at the newness of things so old.