In spring they say,the rain will fall over the precipice.An ocean that has wandered along every dry shore in search for its gold crown is flowing through my eardrums causing my thoughts to swim.The bubbles of air escaping my lungs are like little balloons the flights of which capture the day's essence.
They rise and rise as far as the eye can see.The surface calm as an uprooted tree after a storm with arms as wide as the longing for a fire. A bubble pierces the surface at which after its first enlightment it is met with the thud of a wave crashing over its head.And there it is,lost in the melee of unrecognizable agents of nature,the thought i had.
They rise and rise as far as the eye can see.The surface calm as an uprooted tree after a storm with arms as wide as the longing for a fire. A bubble pierces the surface at which after its first enlightment it is met with the thud of a wave crashing over its head.And there it is,lost in the melee of unrecognizable agents of nature,the thought i had.
:) I was speaking to someone last night about my inability to breathe. I do it, but it's shallow...like I am in constant fight or flight mode. Breathing is something I have to focus on. That in itself is insane. It is instinctual, and yet it no longer is to me. I loved the line about the surface calm. I lose my words like I lose my air. I need more focus.
ReplyDeleteAnnie,
ReplyDeleteTake a walk in the woods..And be calm ..not like the uprooted tree but like the one that stands for eternity..Take care friend