The Forever Immortal Mother
by Isabella Densmore
(Inspired by the poem Full Moon written by Elinor Wylie)

As the father sun begins his

sunset,

The mother moon begins her

moonrise,

As all mortals dreams will accept

them into their embraces,

The Immortal Mother Of The

Moon watches as the glowing

firefly chases,

Her starry night sky watches them

all,

Her power and sway, beckoning

the call,

Of sleep to overcome her mortals

that walk the night,

She wishes to keep them safe

from being at strife,

Her power is only matched by her

opposition,

He shines his light to act as a

balance for the human life,

Hers acts also as a balance,

Without them both balancing each

other,

The world would be dead forever,

So we let them have equal

balance,

So they make the Dream of the

Earth we call a palace.

Anna Gallaher

*no title*

“I sort through my words to find

something of value,

The infinite chasm between

“marvelous” and “incredible”,

And yet, only the right word can

move a soul.

That infinity is nothing compared

to uniqueness,

How “serendipitous” that I find

something of value.

After all, what is the difference

between it all?

What is the point?

Speech and sound are needles.

Precise. Sharp. Makers.

Our words could be a thread,

Ones that the best can make

flowing and strong.

Some say we are all threads in an

endless tapestry,

Joining and twining with others to

make the world-cloth,

But then, where are the

forgotten?

Those whose lives begin and

end like an itch,

Of passing, calculating

notice, but soon gone?

Those who wield the needle

with practice,

Can play at being the three

Fates themselves.

They can sew a design found in

their sight.

Imagination or reality, or making

one the other

But, caution, words can only do so

much.

After all, what can be said that

has not already been?

Love, hate, beauty, pain, jealousy,

betrayal, words all stolen

By those in the past who explored

life, but in their eagerness

Left no mystery uncovered by

words as they captured all of it.

The only thing left to do is chase

after the experiences.

I am young, and I see and read

and hear, and do not understand.

After all, words can only do so

much.”