The Orions, mysterious forces who contacts the witch,
When She is ready to be sworn,
In secret they teach Her how much the soul is rich,
Some think they're are Goddesses, Spirits or even Norn,

She studies all truths in secret,
Energy is always knowledge,
But due to humanity's key weakness,
Their own Truth, Potential, they can't acknowledge!

She studies Magik and Spirituality,
Nothing more commoners hate: a shining light,
Knowing witches didn't win often in history,
Alone She stands, alone She became bright.

Yet one day The Orions appear,
For the Witch is now ready,
She becomes Wise, all fears disappear,
The Illumined path she travels; Perceptive and Steady.

Truly when you are truly yourself,
You see life's true beauty,
And the Witch is forever blessed,
One day...
She will join the Orions, Becoming A Witch for Eternity

I am a child of the stars
Conceived from stardust
And sketched from the kisses of Orion.

I am a child of Jupiter
Formulated from the amber streaks that pinch my frame together
And the unknown beneath the surface.

I am the child of the Milky Way
From the exploding stars that burrowed in my eyes and my heart
And the nebulas that are trying to piece themselves together.

I am a part of the sky that happened to fall down and bruise my skin with dirt
From the bones under the grass
And the charcoal smudges speckling my back.

I am a child of the black hole
Whispered into my ear and filled my brain with darkness
And rests in the bottom of my stomach.

I am a child of the sun
That puts the warmth in my body
And fight the darkness in my head.

I am the child of the stars
Conceived from stardust.


Watch me shine.

i have known nights
where men walk the sun
and the stars count people

sheep huddle together
in grassy fields
dreaming
of fences
worn down

see, the funny thing
about nights is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between the first
and the last

(And hey,
****** ******
The cat’s lost his fiddle
Orion’s got a belt
Round his neck)

the lass
on the moon
plucks planets
from the blue
and decorates
the tangles in
her hair

see, the funny thing
about dreaming is
at some point
you can’t tell the difference
between what hurts
and what doesn’t

(The cat’s started drinking
Orion’s stopped thinking)

dawn
decides to sleep in
for just
another hour
or two

see, the funny thing
about nights is
i have always known them
but know nothing
of you

(And the fiddle has gone out of tune).

Rain showers, mazes uncovered
Dancing like a little child with a toy
Reclaimed as the drizzles recovers
Pouncing  jumps like a kangaroo

The winter burns as the fire blaze
Warmed by the ambience of the logs
Reflections denuded, secrets unearthed
Times lost bouncing like a ball

Bare and **** in the cool mist and fog
A shadowy phantom arises me
An Orion exhibit, my alpha constellation
Carving me out of the hidden cave

I was driving to work tonight and I almost swerved off the road because I was staring at Orion's Belt as it hung near the horizon of the sky.

Please study the following photo and connect the dots on Orion, his belt, and his arrow:
(A detailed answer will be on the back for comparison)

I do not pretend to understand astrology nor astronomy.  

Orion’s arrow always points north.  You can use it as a compass if you are traveling somewhere where there are not many signs of light.  In October, if you crane your neck and squint your eyes and maybe pray to God, Orion will shoot arrow after arrow off into the sky and you will be able to make your first wish upon a shooting star.  (If you are in a desert, and that is why you are navigating by constellations, pray for help.)

His belt is made up of three sisters and I wonder if they talk to him in the night and keep him company?

(Is it possible to be up in the Heavens, overlooking the world, while still feeling lonely and insignificant?)

Constellations move minutely every year.  In this way, they are similar to humans.  Always roaming.  Always looking for change.

When Orion boasted that he could **** any living animal on the planet, Gaia, the Earth Goddess, objected and sent a scorpion after him.  After his death, Zeus flung his body into the stars; fractured to pieces, glowing softly in the night sky, Orion continues to hunt his prey into the dark, cold depths of the Milky Way.

Maybe, if you prayed to the Greek Gods, you could find yourself breathing in the stars, too.

[northern hemisphere: on a beach above the 50th latitude at the end of winter]

(Winter-export), the beach frosted by fingers of polar constellations. It’s too cold to walk without huddling, but we do it nonetheless, because we only have one more night together. Your frothy hydro-rhythm spears into pith, irradiance; I breathe again, deeply. (Thick lips; quick still-hunt.) I rivet fronds of dependence into the seams of your boreal palms, never planning to return the floating colony of barnacles I promised I’d throw back; you, never planning to catch the sun bored through salt spray, clasping crisp foreheads, stitching on glistered lips and froze-shut lashes. And on a day when you didn’t rise early enough, I was left out in the water until my chest was steeped deep in ice over the thought of losing you. (Glimmering isle); my hair disheveled in sea-foam. Annular light. You pushed me in, and I relented. My isotherm sent chthonically. But you, in your legendary mantle, adapted my eyes to see the light hidden deep within your belt; such pinks and fuchsias I have never seen before, suddenly inverted. At absolute velocity, I cut my foot on sea-glass, bleeding blueshift, aligning to the colours of the zenith. You take me back to the starry house and we struggle with your parallax, a nadir inseminated on the celestial pole. (Parsecs quaking.) You whisper, I’ll heal you. I’ll heal you, only if you let me. Only if… you let me…  Over and over and over until it’s as mundane as the crashing coast, and unrivaled, I concede to everything and wake up deep in redshift, the whole universe escaping, warmth-ribbons suffocating the abyss: without you, alone on the ecliptic at last. In the spring-sinking, you order me a silver sword, sharp in starlight; to remember you. You stand a guardian, beyond the sun, flinging tiny ice-hot rocks (freighting gemstones); King of the Heavens. I submerge myself into the bathic depths, skulking in aestival despair, as you trade the night for day. Little do you know, my resurgence is also in your hands.

[i watched Orion slip from view every night this spring. No doubt he’ll return next winter... it’s sad losing a friend like that, for so long]

the rocket launch;
inside Orion
a new star

I can always tell when I am on a different planet..  At times much of the surface looks the same as others...  But its when the stars come out at night..  Misplaced and rearranged they seem.. The stars of someone else's sky reminds me that I am never in the same place.. The constellations all have their stories..  I call it the book of stars.. As it is never ending to all the different eyes that behold them somewhere in time elsewhere...   This star page tells me I am on Earth tonight.. Orion is the first to greet me..  I must continue on..