Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Holding on to a broken vine...

I cannot separate the heavens, nor cut it from this earth, for we are born of star dust and placed to grow upon the soil from the beginning of our birth. Greet the sunshine in the morning, the moonlight in the night, and bless the quintessential moment that two souls bond with delight. I control the raindrops, you control the fire and pure is the essence between us that is truly love inspired.

The beginning of a story and end of a chapter.. 
the balance of living life and experiencing death. 

I am earth the elements pure, the wind does not whisper and neither does it roar. It moves the oceans, brings life to the trees in the dance on the mountain through the newly birthed leaves.  The rain does its calling it awakes from inside the restlessness emotions, where we live and we die.

Quiver not my spirit,the rain will come and go
and wash away the darkness and leave a
blanket of spring time snow.

The catkins are quickly fading, the willow told its tale 
and in its place are now leaves of green to cast the seasons spell. 

My soul does all the talking,my heart it cries so, 

for simple is the request of love,

like a crocus through

the snow.

To live and love as I stroll the earth under
the approval of the celestial heavens. 

I closed my eyes in fear I would see 
and then my heart spoke out to me.
battle fiercely,hold on tight, love
and joy,are close in sight. 
Holding on to a broken vine, can't climb , can't swing, fell and cried. The wind laughed and the sun sneered and soon the dark of night was near. My head  hit the rock and the varied stone, paralyzed I couldn't go,  tears fell and I yelled hello, but who would hear the silent moans. Leaves formed a bed from years gone by, some were rotted and others were fine. Holding on to a broken vine, all that is in sight, haunts the mind. 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

After dinner sit (sleep) a while, after supper walk a mile.