A specific measured year has come to its sunset settlement.
While the movement of time has led within me to spaces unknown, and ancient haunts are surfacing magically from the fog of the unforgotten, words are scarce—they must be hunted down
While the movement of time has led within me to spaces unknown, and ancient haunts are surfacing magically from the fog of the unforgotten, words are scarce—they must be hunted down
and bound to the tracks for safe-keeping.
Let us look back, just a few pages, before the highlighted portions
and the stubborn bookmark treads.
We walked as the orange fire bled across a sky, complete with ribcage gash and all, feeling the wind raw against cool ears. Communicating despite language. The view was enough, as the pleasure of nature snapped for us endless frames content to reside in the picture-postcard-pockets of our minds’ eyes and familial heart-cycles. The trees swept audio inklings to the side like a waterfall in reverse, as waves of motion scooted across our path like playful squirrels formed by the substance of comprehension alone.
Looping about the layered valley as dark approached, we rode the evening with delight, content with the walk and the sparkling of lights. Tree-shadows, our somber living audience, absorbed all shine from the moon, and yet the inverted creature, smooth and crescent, beamed bright enough to leave its kindness glowing upon the ground.
Even after we had walked away to climb the final hill, that sweet space glowed with enchantment as only memories can, and the interaction of story-telling will be etched in my mind forevermore. So many things to learn from, but never fear, for lessons are painful, but awakening is the most beautiful state after the breed of deep sleep that is troubled by change.
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