you were the master
of all you could see
and I was a whisper
born of the breeze
you were the storm
that rocked me to sleep
I was the sound
of the trees
you were breath
beginning again –
the long sweet call
of the soul
I was a drink
of rivers to come
from mountain tops
did I roll
to find you
an always ~
destined they said
but I dared believe
you were more
than a place I’d discovered
remembered me new
you were forever
and I was before
. . .
Such is the paradox of dualism, flowers come forth in spring, summer green is swept away in autumn winds, becoming clay under winter snow, soil meant for new growth… the sacred hoop.
…a secret becomes a summer breeze, becomes an early Fall……..leaves fall from the heaven, paving a path of surrender……
An evocative sense comes in, as if it never left..fragments on a breeze… ❤ xXx
I can feel it the peaceful in that green side world. And looks pretty cool and very beautiful.