Tales from the Pisces New Moon

At the moon chime, sleep gave way to dreaming. Last night I found myself wandering back through time. Having laid my body down, my soul slipped out to set sail on the old currents that still sometimes lap at my shore.

I found myself standing in a little front garden I once called home in a tiny town on the edge of reason. In the teeming company of all I had planted and buried there, old magics still humming beneath soil and tears.

I ran my fingers along the time marked shingle that had once welcomed me home and held me safe through all that wild weathered life. Traced my eyes over its pitch and fall and the woman, younger and so dangerously tender, who once lived and longed inside it. When I peered through its uneven glass, I saw it was no longer mine. At once I felt the lost lingering parts of me return, weary ghosts whose yearning finally found their home again in me.

A friend told me once that I left so much of myself in the places I had loved. People too, back then. Now I find myself calling all those keepsakes back from their old worlds. Welcoming their overdue return like lost lovers. Tucking them gently in after too long wandering, abandoned to a dream I couldn't let die even after it had taken its final ragged breath.

I woke to the future rumbling at the moon gate, resetting itself again. The old relics of what once held me in its thrall in ruins about me. Tiny dream seeds quickened high up in my belly, arching my back into a serpentine posture that yet draws back like a bow. Shot from the crossroads, poised at the thresholds, faces spinning as the three fates dangle the thread once more.

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Tales of the Pisces Lune
Happy snap circa 2016, last time this moon gate called me through
Words C. Kerrie Basha, 2025