Unlove isn’t romantic. It is s
We mustn’t run away from what
Hunt after a hunt. Victory after victory. Death after a death… We still climb new heights. Is it as cold up
The soil is always the one to bring the flowers…Yet…
Substances aren’t any near to
As you not seeing me.
The red skies are above us. I am standing with the owls and hawks. As the haw
I feel a piece of strange music every time I see you and I still don’t know which or w
Somewhere not far in time the red hooded priestess run on th
“Power is never afraid of the full darkness”: they say.
And there is no monster the white maiden can’t defeat. As
The red hooded priestess chant.
They sing to the remaining pieces of souls
They sing to all the spirits. The dead… the cursed…….. the traveling ones………
The coupled ones. Out and inside the vessels… Each substance, eac
Memories are full. Full as Death. Absolute as Love.
The Deities have decided to re
They don’t mind the curses the soil still brea
Art is invoking. Bringing to life what it needs to come to the surface.
One.. Two… Three… Is the end anywhere near, or the signs and symbols are lying to me again? I wish I could believe this so
There are still so many thorns
If tonight you decide to hold me and leave back all the dead times all the songs within me, I shall meet your very essence
And oh… What a play of time that is.
There… There are always vict
Here is all of my mosaic… My pieces of words, of time, Yes.
I need my white wolverines to surround this Earth. The Time of crowning has finally come. Wolverine after wolverine we shall hold
Hope is not a problem. Hope is a bridge.
You see, the whole Universe is made of substances. Each of them co
This is by guest author Ina Gjata
Ina Gjata is a Moon lover, journalist, art critic, painter, life lover. Passionate about the wild feminine and wild creatures. She doesn’t do well with system rules, regulations, and lies. A born rebel being, she believes real truth is inside us all and that writing is a piece of the great truth, meant to be told, and manifested.