Who is Cassia?
I am the blood pumped through your dreams and all the ink spots on a
play. I am the fire behind the moon and the eclipse of your iris. I am
the hot amazon surging with life and I am the blank page in a journal.
I waste my life in dreams and wouldn't waste it any other way. I am
passionate about movement, travel, history, change, the places between
now and then, writing, talking with anyone who has an idea, a passion,
an open mind, a spark.
I can be found at nighttime on my porch perhaps, listening to
the songs sung by the redwood trees and deer. On full moons I light
candles for dragons, deer, love, creativity, strength, energy,
friendship, clear sight, judgment, guidance. On new moons, I talk to
tarot cards and read books about far off lands and peoples who have
never lived.
When it rains, I can be found beside a mug of white or red or
black porcelain in a coffee shop. I'll be seated near a window looking
onto the busier end of the street. I'll be writing. E-mails, essays,
love poems, songs, stories, my novel. I will be the person wearing the
spiked jewelry or the jade. I'll have on an opal ring, it is my
marriage ring to the earth. I wear it as a symbol of my dedication to
my cause.
On sunny afternoons one can find me somewhere in the forest or
the beach, walking where water meets land or sky meets leaves, smiling,
running, dreaming. On the beach I'll be the one screaming in the ocean,
yelling that the water is too cold but not making any move to get out,
or else I'll be the one tossing the volleyball into the air, digging
mandalas in the sand, laying in the arms of a friend to tan. In the
forest, I'll be the girl with the scarf tied over her hair, dirt under
her nails, scrambling across logs, splashing in creeks, carrying on
conversations with blue jays and squirrels, deer and butterflies.
Look for me on rooftops, in dusty library halls, in shops
fragrant with incense and superstition, in the center of the classroom
staring at my surroundings with a mixture of hate and amusement. You
can meet me in my stories, somewhere between the settings and the
characters. I am the questioner and the question. I am what most have
forgotten and forgetting they forsake. I am the dream left stranded in
too harsh sun. I am an idea, a passion, an open mind, a spark.
Enjoy the stories and poetry I've uploaded here, comments are always appreciated!
Cassia Scarborough
FictionPress.com - let the words flow
