VOLATILE

Missive #80 - Transcribed Poetic Dictation

[A year ago I was married under the darklight of the total solar eclipse in Vermont. 4.8.24. Our considerations for celebrating the first anniversary got all bent up by my developing an acute respiratory unwellness. Coughy and phlegmy and altogether unpleasant. Yesterday it turned into a full feverish onslaught, with that typical hypersensitivity of skin and inability to intuit how many layers would make my heat feel not like cold. Fortunately our wedding itself took place over several days, so we have grounds to be a bit flexible while still fitting within the window of ~anniversary totality~. Today we decided to go to the ocean and breathe in some fresh spring air, climb about on pale purple sparkling rocks. The white egrets//herons were out in force — always a good sign in my books. The white heron is one of the animals who has been appearing in and guiding me through my dreams about as far back as I can remember. Probably the earliest I remember would be around 4 years old. And they have accompanied me regularly ever since. In visions, in meditations, in visits to the inner sanctum. I only really started noticing the snowy egret abundance here in Maine the past several years. Something about them soothes me. My grandfather too loved them and felt an association with them.
Tonight’s missive kept me from sleep (a very familiar format with these dictations) until I got out of bed and walked to the next room to transcribe it. Not too visual this time. I also made more small edits than I am historically permitted — maybe the most to-date. And the three lines at the bottom are my own addition. I almost put them up here in the foreword, but something moved me to place them in the body of the text (with three stars serving as a visual break from the dictation-text). We’ll see if they stay there or not~ ] Received 4/10/25 | 1:46-2:02am

Listen to the Recitation:

VOLATILE
Crocadile;
The fates are fickle
One moment: doom
The next: bliss
Ecstatic hysterias
Leading to neither pole
But a secret third thing
And not the midpoint—
The middle way has not solved
The question of evolution
Remains vibrant, alive
Living the unknown transcendent
Which takes us from one
Set of extremes, to another
Pumps and rug-pulls, angels
As messengers, angels as soldiers
Bearing fire swords, brands
Representing some stigma
And carrying it, child, across the river
The feet cannot get wet
And besides — the river is not safe
Safety is not promised
Nor ever assured.
The star of Seshat sprouts like leaf
As the scribe, a stem
This place rings like jade, piercing
A crown of laurel
All that is desired is achieved
And then deceived
Until there is no more desire
And peace unwanted
The one who knows not what they want
Is dangerous
The one who knows they want not
Is dangerous
The one who knows what they want
Is dangerous
Yes, they're all dangerous
Even the most peaceful love
Will destroy whole worlds
Timelines distraught, dismembered
Dystopia for one is utopia for another
Where and how can they marry?
To produce a unifying child
The bridge between poles
The knotted cord of prayers and dreams
To take us beyond our devilish constructions
Into a new field of play, of imagination
Where there no longer are heavens and hells
And where memory is no longer a tyrant
And relation no longer a minefield.
We walk around each other, wary
One might say rather: careful
We care enough to fear the tread
Which stops the boot from falling, or coming up
To absolutes, which both inspire and dismantle
Communities, simple folk looking to make life
A bit easier, more engaging, less obnoxious
We love the heat, and wouldn't be without it
And yet, this heat burns, hands held to elements
As punishment for unbearable sins, inherited
And passed along, growing
As the blessings are passed along,
And the powers. Unclench
The fists, the jaw, the neck, the knees—
The Volatile promises us:
"There will be another way"

* * *
When volatility is present
It is but the pang~shudders announcing
That way’s arRival

---

The 4.8.24 Wedding Eclipse (photo by Ray Ewing)

From our ocean venture, to Timber Point

Variance

Channels & Middens

Bursting

Jaded light