The land. Where everything dances to the windstorm in trust while the black canvas lies ahead. Hidden beneath the fog and the dark clouds before the change of seasons.
Standing naked and vulnerable, with complete honesty against the whispering voices of nature.
Delicate.
Awaiting the cold breeze to come and freeze you.
A memory of a winter that has faded and another that is starting again
Like a neverending circle.
Then like the land itself you are also naked
Truthful.
One with the all.
Dancing to the stillness of the world.
Singing to the silent song.
While the whispers fill the air again.
Surrounded by the trees, the rivers and the mountains.
The thirst is never quenched.
Like longing for something you can never have.
Even though it is the simplest of the things
Δεν υπάρχουν σχόλια:
Δημοσίευση σχολίου