Shakti the Wizard :
Sometimes I write around the corners, and sometimes I fly right off the page!
Sometimes I´m laughing while the words dance around my head like crazed bees...
Makes sense ? Of course. Well, this was one of those moments...
Get a-going, and keep straight on, the road has a lot of racy curves!...
Say it aloud, you´ll get a spin and end up giggling. It´s a metaphor, of course.
(Image : "Lothlorien-the-Beautiful", Mika G., 2007)
Metaphor : –noun
1. a figure of speech in which a term or phrase is applied to something to which it is not literally applicable in order to suggest a resemblance, as in “A mighty fortress is our God.” (def. 1).
2. something used, or regarded as being used, to represent something else; emblem; symbol.
Wyrd: The word "Wyrd" is of Anglo-Saxon origin, and roughly corresponds to the concept of "karma" in Hinduism. Although wyrd can be personal it is often linked to whole families, tribes, and even races. Unlike Karma, it is not totally fixed. One can move within one's individual web of Wyrd in accord with the amount of consciousness one commands. The less conscious one is, the more one is subject to the seemingly random workings of Wyrd, in contrast to "orlog" which is impersonal and cannot be manipulated.
Alkymia of the Wyrd :…The Baba Yaga is chanting in the fragrant vapours while stirring the soup with a wooden spoon, her white hair all crazy about her face : The Old Iron Pot is floating on a tormented sea, Yeah yeah yeah. And then she goes on, smiling all the while, like the wild woman we know she really is…
"An alchemical vessel it is indeed, says Master Yoda who lives right next door. The fires of awareness are stoked every day in this very cauldron, carefully, tenderly tended to, the fires which gobble up inconsistencies and mash things with dark wings that go bump into the raging, raging night, - the lowlow fires that transform possibilities into good nourishment for the whole village, into soul-food for the hungry." Oof, say that again, Sam!
I´ll say so myself if you allow me to: the brew is savoury, to say the least. The kitchen team is rosy red most of the time (could it be for the tiny crystal cups of bubbly wine?). Anyway, they dance around the fires, breathing on the curly violet-orange-blue flames. More leek! More potatoes! More curry powder! …they call, taking turns with the spoon, sampling the creation with delight. But tchee, there always comes the moment when a tiny voice suddenly pipes up, chirping the dreaded : "Oh! I´m BOOOOOOOORED!..." , and then… … all the ravens fly off with a great whoosh, and we all start to shake in our boots, let´s try this, let´s do that, now a new adventure happens on the horizon, and the old Iron Pot goes a-floating into new waters, with a sky behind it like Turner´s paintings, all about the glory of the light.

The Old Pot´s Al-kymia is working again *sigh*, and the dark angels sort of pile on one another in a corner, all agog, and screaming away the daylights, - all the dark angels go RAOTKF (Rolling Around On The Kitchen Floor)!... Imagine, imagine, imagine! "Imaaaaaaaaaaaaa-gine all the peeeeeeeeeeee-ople…"…Oh oh oh!... Ah methinks it´s not the shiny new tools that will save our day, but the patched, recycled, mended, bumpy Old Faithful – tried this way and that by time and eeeeeeeeeek-spee-rience. Brewing the right mix, the mix "just right" as Goldilocks says, salt, curry, savoury celery, and the exact hidden ***Magik*** ingredient that gives the brew its smooth, smoother, smooziest consistence in town! Brace yourselves, Thrones and Glories. Here come the gnomes, and the trolls, and the fairies – all the little precious ones! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah - breathe in, the spicy savoury (((("vibration"))))… Mwahahahahahahaha Come on, come ON, do inhale, DO, lol!
Post Scriptum – The so-called Dark Angels are "dark" only because they don´t have any sense of RHY-ZZZ-M – babbedee babbeda – babbedoo... doo! ;-)
It rains on the plains in SpainZ…And the Spanish Armada goes a-floating near the Old Iron Pot, just to have a see; a see, you see, a siege, a seat to see the company of dragon riders that swallow innocent people whole, and spit out the bones, good people that they are! Whoa.
...And the Baba Yaga, half screeching crone and half Jedi-knight, she still has some life in her tired bones, after all!

That. Was. A. Metaphor. If you´ll pardon me.
The Dragon Lady, Upstairs.
;-)