Oneness with
time
Up the mountian she is headed where colors of love are hidden in multitude of ways,spoken primarily to her heart which moves with the music she hears along the way in a thousand voices to shape all that she is...Green tops stand high above brooks which filter the rising sun into wet valleys,where daisies are getting new life from the morning dew that drips through the early dawn. Deep in memory, woven warm... She is once again alive, erasing completely the agony of life only to replace it with some cool beauty so no cloud would ever wander once to make a mark on azure skies embracing tops of pine trees. She begins her chant before the sun dances with her shadow on the ground. She waits for impulses inside her to send unseen signals through the morning hours which bid the tightest buds to grow a drab world green again. She circles with the wind on her favorite rock greeting the morning sun with the sparrows, painting moments in time with memories enclaved in the heart of the land ,pervading dampness in a world of dripping silence till the naked sycamores are clothed in their morning garment as the wind and the sunlight toss their sihouettes. Her wet step sounds are heard in the distant valleys of eastern skies. Her existence is transfixed like branches on a tree that merge to make a trunk. Her days are numbered by hunting visions of sun-cracked brick houses and children mumbling on dry wishing wells. Alone in this thoughtless hour,she covers nothing...but sense of oneness with time, beauty, and trees in a foggy world she is willing to share...
Therese
(c)1999
