on the road
Bluelighter
I am alone again now, but not scared, cold, or blue. I feel balance and ease laying upon the secret and sacred cushion of the willow tree-where the roots meet the earth, gravity holding us all together.
My body relaxes with the branches-resting after the short but firm and brisk walk it took to get here. And my heart dances to the rythm of the childrens laughter and play.
I have no memories now, nor dreams. I am only in this moment in time.
The sound of the wind stroking the trees massages gently at my soul. While my eager spirit soaks up the energy of the fall breeze.
Colored leaves fall lifelessly with their branches to the earth-DEAD- as we all have been before and all will be again. But we always return to life with the trees.
Certain distractions take me back to a life in which we all exist in, but that which is not completely reality. Cell phones, televisions, and cable connections. Fast cars and money--time is created and then wasted. And what is time but just moments of life. Time IS life.
An old lady is walking, stumbling, mumbling, and humming to her home.
Wasted years rotted with passion unachieved-this is life away from the trees.
I let my life sway as loosely as the weeping branches, covered in leaves that give life. Letting the wind move us to any rythm she so desires.
The sun is falling now to the other side, giving light to others who need it and now I must travel tired too-before the blushing sky turns black.
Thank you trees and wind for turning these few but tender moments into simple long gusts of sweet September sighs
My body relaxes with the branches-resting after the short but firm and brisk walk it took to get here. And my heart dances to the rythm of the childrens laughter and play.
I have no memories now, nor dreams. I am only in this moment in time.
The sound of the wind stroking the trees massages gently at my soul. While my eager spirit soaks up the energy of the fall breeze.
Colored leaves fall lifelessly with their branches to the earth-DEAD- as we all have been before and all will be again. But we always return to life with the trees.
Certain distractions take me back to a life in which we all exist in, but that which is not completely reality. Cell phones, televisions, and cable connections. Fast cars and money--time is created and then wasted. And what is time but just moments of life. Time IS life.
An old lady is walking, stumbling, mumbling, and humming to her home.
Wasted years rotted with passion unachieved-this is life away from the trees.
I let my life sway as loosely as the weeping branches, covered in leaves that give life. Letting the wind move us to any rythm she so desires.
The sun is falling now to the other side, giving light to others who need it and now I must travel tired too-before the blushing sky turns black.
Thank you trees and wind for turning these few but tender moments into simple long gusts of sweet September sighs
