Astrology Life
--reading by spiritualist
I know several lives worth living. (Mary Oliver)
The past lurks under crests of wave, ocean folds of memory that house the untenable.
I long to be on fire: Like anyone, I am mostly water.
There is more light here than we need.
It travels faster than I fathom; still, it enters me with care.
How many times can one love, be loved?
Who is more blessed: lover, or beloved?
I am meant to return to the place I call home, by water.
True colors lie under reefs, a palette of fish filled with light.
Is it possible to know water freed from metaphor, symbol?
Is it water or myself that is forever trapped within meaning?
The horizon tells me how distant I am from whom I want to be.
Splashing at the Atlantic’s edge are the children I was meant to have.
Gulls sculpt space and light beyond understanding.
The world is much larger than I allow myself to believe.
I always dress like a tourist—to be prepared for nothing.
The ability to exclude everything, exclude nothing, allows me a presence.
My favorite phase of the moon is the young maiden with nothing but more light to grow into.
The stars of Lauderdale dusk are strung on boats in the canals.
The world is much smaller than I allow myself to believe.
Each stroke I swim connects me with the next life worth living.
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