Little notions with potions of light,
Are these,
Manifestation with illumination,
Via chemistry, colour and choice.
Yet when the light is low,
Even the highest can let go,
Standing naked 'till the passing of the dark.
A Gift of Verse - Thank you for reading!
The tallest trees have the highest leaves,
Little notions with potions of light, Are these, Manifestation with illumination, Via chemistry, colour and choice. Yet when the light is low, Even the highest can let go, Standing naked 'till the passing of the dark.
Digital SLR Cameras at Samy's Camera
The Vortex of the Soul
The furious anchoring emotive claws Within the story that spells your form Can grab and snag with all their might And burn your skin in the dead of night With eyes in the fire that focus on smoke The mockingbird echo invisible choke Swell with intention to rid of this grief Mental mindscape anguish hiding underneath Into the vortex of realisation in the moment Leave behind the screenplay of your torment No need for the re-run or the self flagellation Rejoin the vector of present creation Convince yourself of anything to hide from the now The ever running universe that we are in somehow The baffling insignificance of us Of everything alive Let go of the importance Of all you keep inside The galaxy spins onward in forever leaping grace From some distant centre the orbit knows its place The thoughts and energy which exist within your cells Lock the door to unity with almost everything else Observe the flow and know the dance The natural things continual trance Sit as part of the glorious spin And right action will manifest from within. Rowan Blair Colver Vacuum Chamber - Alan Blay Such a beautiful creative photograph. Check him out on Deviant Art http://alanblayphotomorph.deviantart.com/
The Tiny Tree in The Forest of Fairies
Once there was a tiny tree, A sapling almost, Fragile and flexible, With only two or three leaves. In the forest where it grew, Lived natural forces, Born by a trick of the light, Placing purpose in the eyes of you. The tree enjoyed life surrounding, Many voices and noises, Splendid wings and pattering footsteps, For too aware the deciduous grounding. As seasons waved like the tides, Drawing water and mineral, Carving experiences and natural order, The meek took on this persistence of life. Growth was marked as a marriage, Of the essence and the form, What was brought within, Has become a formation of this carriage. The winged ones and magical things, Admired the tree in its height, With cause for attachment to joy, A love created bonded beings. Yet so chapters were turned, The sun rolled in the sky, Again the snowfall buried its fallen leaves, The tree felt and yearned. It knew the forest had supported it well, Provided shelter, Given light and nourishment, Company was the foundation it wanted to tell. As it felt out to inform the life's love, Gone were the little things, With their tiny wings and footsteps The eyes now far high above. No more involved in the matters below, The canopy of the ceiling, A steadfast position, All of a sudden the tree felt alone. Sitting in quiet solitude, Aware of the wind, Stable and eternal, In the moment of fortitude, A small echo reverberated within, Sensing a presence, An inner formation, The mighty tree sat and listened. Switching off the bantering sounds, From the wind in the leaves, The bickering trees, A quiet knowing of life it found. And at once in revelation, It was clear that inside, A tiny town of life, The most loved and adoring sensation, All the memories of unity, The mystical forces personified, Magical things with colour, Had resided within as a community, Sprites and spiritual force, A magical array, Beings of pre-material action, Had made the tree their house. Rowan Blair Colver |
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