Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Everyday is a holiday with you...

Holidays... hm overrated, though I can understand how some in a busy world need a little reminder to be ever so grateful for friends, life and the nourishment that is infused within the spirit. Okay! so there is a little sarcasm surfacing. The truth is every morning I am thankful for the memories, for the chance to create new ones and for the all over total experience, of giving and receiving the gifts that life in it self bestow upon us.
This past year has taken me down a variety of paths, each person I met, each turn and bump in the road in itself came with an eye awakening experience. I looked into the eyes of death, I felt the embrace in the arms of love and I felt a tremendous amount of growth which instilled in me hunger to know more , to be more , to give more. The journey entwined and surfaced with a broader view of life and the challenges of those who accompany us on the rocky road we call life.
Some would call them fond memories, those experiences over the years that surface throughout our life, but I see them as more than fond memories. The journey is the growth of the soul as it absorbs like a sponge all that we encompass.
Though the calendar might mandate we celebrate the holiday and allow family to join together in a one day celebration, I believe each day should be celebrated and thanks should be given in a daily reminder of how truly forunate our souls were to be given a chance to experience the walk on earth.
Today is the celebration of snowflakes, tomorrow the celebration of the winter sun, the star lit sky, the winter path, etc.

Rejoice! say I for we were born to walk a path where souls are torn. Close your eyes and you will see the bond of love for eternity.

The Winter Rose

The ice crystals had fallen and dressed the hills in white
and captured in the scene is a rose bud frozen tight.

Inquistive by nature, mysterious the sight, which
caused one little rose to stand its ground and fight.

It battled the heat of summer, stood firm through
days of fall and just one little rose bud standing
strong and tall, bloomed once more as winter
in all its fury made a call.

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