Vibrancy ignites, screaming brilliance in constant vibrato. Beaches of green valleys cling like contagious patches, spreading further each day across the skin of the earth.
Once again, I find myself beneath the trees- looking up at the puzzles which pose against the vast moods of the sky. I wonder if the erect boughs which stare back appreciate the design which is me.
What is it about the sound of twigs crackling beneath my feet, or the feel of sun- baked dust on my bare ankles, that lures me to such collective tranquility? -Perhaps, this serenity’s sole existence is simply the device of recognition. Perhaps, I am the reason for this to even exist, as these moments determine my existence.
A shawl of warmth veils my shoulders, inviting me to lift my face to the heavens for an early summer’s kiss. Although my eyes are closed, a sudden splash of gold paints the thin shade of my lids, and I know at this moment, I am looking into the face of God.
The damp scent of ancient soil toils within a jasmine tainted breeze- the moist aroma is the calling of distant tears which weep from a forgiving sky. The flavor of renewal and earthly cleansing fills my pallet, as I draw the crisp, wetness in deep. Soon the rains of baptism shall come, and once again I shall be re-born.
Many occasions I have heard the notion said, ‘dying is easy, for it is life which is the greatest burden’ -yet, at this moment I cannot find truth in this statement, as such beauty abounds to nurture and marry my living spirit of self, as I drink from the cup of earth’s generosity.
Flecks of tiny blossoms speckle throughout the meadow. These unique expressions seem to be the precious stories told by the sunsets themselves. Each small flower a living journal kissed with the essence of a twilight horizon. What purpose should such color be, if not for the pure simplicity of capturing the radiance of today, and entice favor for us to continue our paths into tomorrow. For this, I am thankful.
Winds rise to ribbon around my form, gently lifting my tresses with touch unseen. Indigo plumes ink across a crystal ocean-sky. Rain begins to softly descends and quench the land- as the whispers tap against my skin, I become aware that I too, am the conception of a story..
I am the psalms of an awoken season, the breath which resides in poetic inspiration. I am the maiden storms which seize, the laughter of a wind song- a blossom seed. I am the roots which entwine, and the vines which roam free- I am the legend shroud of each timeless tree. I am the rain drops which cry, and the petals that wilt. I am the endless plains, I am eternal hills. I ride upon the wings of birds which drift into divinity- I am the streams and the rivers, and the shore beside the sea. I am the ink which etches upon clay pages -my composition is earth, wind, fire and water’s revelation. Nothing dwells less than, nor achieves greater balance without me; for I am the sister-spirit to all which is life, and life is the chapters held in the palm of creation’s perfect symphony.
Blessed be.
