Still Time #WritePhoto #Stillness

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

The chief looked to the horizon, forever surveying the movement of water. All life was cataloged in its molecules, and the chief never tired of reading its memories. There was a comfort to living in this slow time of stone where stasis reminded people who passed by that there is a lingering but also a letting go. The water, forever rocking against the hard stone, eroded centuries and not minutes.

The chief had seen it all. He had watched the reckless shatter against his chest. The mighty who would defeat fall back into the belly of the womb as though returning to the beloved without choice. And, he had seen love, oh yes, he had seen love.

Each morning he watched the sun make love to Earth, filling her with the seeds of its golden light. He watched the sky blush into crimson before it widened into the blue expanse of truth, spreading open without end. Birds, defying gravity as they lifted to the beyond and danced love across the horizon. And in the deep below, he felt it. Love, spreading through liquid memory in the song of the whales and dolphins echoing the heartbeat of the goddess as it stirred through strata and sank deep into his bones.

For Sue Vincent’s Weekly #WritePhoto prompt #stillness

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#Timeless #writephoto #SueVincent

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

She whispered

I am waiting for you

But the hills stretch for miles

where will I find you?

Her voice echoes through me

rising from the shadowlands

Inside I search the detritus

 of lifetimes forgotten

their effects left behind

my eyes look for the ever-green

of the heart to find her again

as feet stumble over instinct

broken by memory

until flesh touches stone

and her song sings truth through my cells

erasing time as the door

within opens again

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly write photo challenge. A fitting photo as I get ready for another journey across the pond to mingle among the stones. To participate in the challenge, please click here.

 

#Imagination #writephoto

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Sometimes she thought

am I just a collection of bones

linked into structure

vertebrae piled high to support

the working brain

while Earth bloomed around her

unnoticed

Until one day

she placed its green life

upon her brow

encircling her crown

and felt the light of illumination

unfold its golden petals

and she thought

I am more than this body

of bones

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly write photo prompt. If you’d like to participate, please click here

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#Beneath #WritePhoto #SueVincent

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

 

Beneath your weighty boughs

and those grains of time you pile

as though you have something to save

I wait for you

holding the mountains of your creation

the outer layers adding density to the inner

Pause

Take your breath beyond

let the weight of your time slip

into the river of glass

peer into the depths below

and see me shining back at you

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt challenge. Please click here to participate. 

#writephoto

 

Shadows #writephoto prompt #SueVincent

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

“There are too many lines.”

“Free yourself.”

“Metal bars rising from the earth. Stone pillars capped before they reach the heavens.”

“It’s only an illusion.”

“I can see light filtered through the shadows. A window hovering above a shut gate.”

“Fly to it.”

“I have not wings to fly.”

“Then climb the walls. Scale the spokes.”

“I fear impalement. Death, even.”

“Then stay imprisoned if you must. Or welcome death.”

“But I can see the sky beyond. It’s so vast. I can feel the breeze lifting my breath. Inside me, there is a voice that wants to sing with the birds.”

“Then sing.”

“I have not the voice for song.”

“Then be silent.”

“Silence is lonely. I have no one to talk to. No one to hear me. No one to answer me.”

“Who do you think I am?”

 

Written for Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto challenge. Click here if you’d like to participate. 

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#Bones #writephoto prompt #suevincent

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Photo credit: Sue Vincent

They said it was a sacrifice,
but isn’t all life?
The tree pulled down to make paper to record our words
The hay threshed to fill bellies
Some say even water is alive
The clouds spilling it to the ground only to be swallowed
by some body that will eventually die
Only the bones linger
Hardened by structure
Fused to bear weight
Once stripped of the vulnerable layers they expose the effort
of resistance as a catalogue of time
We like to date our years lived
We like to think about lifetimes
in terms of expansion
The vulnerable layers we shroud
with creams and clothing designed to hide
and deny this thing we call age
But, when we strip ourselves down to what is left
Beyond the hardened bones that remind us of death
as a loss and that thing called density,
we are left with the essence itself
That bit of life that lingers over and over again
The cycle repeating itself to rebirth
in another form. Experience depends
upon this essence, as does growth and death
It is said that when the body dies,
the weight of the eternal essence can be recorded
after it leaves the form which held it close to call it a life
by itself. We can look at the dry bones and see the loss
of what once was, or we can follow the essence
back into the dance of life. Imagine
a breath of memories swirling into another form,
or perhaps dancing in eternity’s ocean
The individual heart eventually stops
That’s simply the law of nature of life in form
An idea that might make a single beating heart
skip into the throat to hide for want of eternity
of the individual. We don’t like to think
about nonexistence as we define our existence
but what of that pulse that beats through all life?
Can you feel it?
No one can say they cannot,
or have not, because
it is that essence that lingers
The before form and the after form
So you can study the bones and marvel
at the loss, or you can study the essence
that beats the eternal heart and recognize it
as your own too.

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt challenge

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#Faraway #suevincent #writephoto prompt

When I saw Sue’s writing prompt photo from this past Thursday, I knew I would likely participate, but something told me to wait. This morning, I opened my inbox to her post from Ani and was graced with a quiet space to sit with what it had to offer. As Sue’s posts have a way of doing, I felt that familiar​ call to a faraway home that is, perhaps, not so far away.

 

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Your cells hum with the memory of a faraway home

Can you here it?

It sounds like sand moving through water

They move through you like a tide

Your body the cave

The womb inside emptied

Waiting for the flood

To fill it whole again

Life returns in cycles

And your body hungers

For the return

To grow the fertile seeds

Oh, I have seen you, before

she whispers light back into your cells

I too have been waiting in this darkened cave

Eons passed in a chasm of hungered silence

But it is nothing to me, only to you

I understand the tides

I understand the cycle

The long leave

Before the return

Birth is always a memory held inside

Your fertile ground

And I am here always

Waiting without desire

To welcome you home

Again