The Color of the Fire

Ghosts arrive from the past and appear in the present, or so they say, though I sometimes wonder. Sometimes I think that all of time must already exist right here, though we might only see glimpses when the conditions are right. Sometimes I think maybe we are all watching from the future, and the past is only filling itself in. We feel it in our bones and then later we say, "I knew it all along." 

There are certain times of the year when I catch sight of shadowy shapes gliding by my windows, but when I look there is nothing, only a crackle of static or humming in the air. Not leaf-light or flitting birds, but something both more and less substantial. I wonder about the source of these apparitions, whether it's the past or the future leaking through. 

I think about what imprint we make on the world around us, the color of the fire that emblazons our presence in this world, or the spark of life that exists outside time. 

There is no way for me to know yet, but for now, I can speculate. 

 

Eyes Open

"As if something out there seemed to take notice"

It's been a year since the Mothwing Collective came into the world, and our explorations of the bright side of the eerie are still going strong. To say more about what the bright eerie is, and what it means, is an ongoing project that will come in time, but for now, here (hopefully, for your pleasure) are more pictures. Never fear, our eyes are open and watching the horizon.

Spectral speculations.

"I dreamt I called you from the past."  

(And I did dream it, via some secret line from 1988 into now, and I told the story of all that happened between the times of your birth and mine, but when I woke up, I couldn't remember a word.)

Rearranging geometries and breaking invisible sightlines.

Fate hums along wires

Eyes Open

Beacon, signal, silent invisible

Lunar lucidity

Hidden turnings. 

Lens flare as Aldebaran, striding across the star map. 

More mothwingy images next post. Count on it.