 The air has taken water, sucked it up through spindled roots cobwebbing into clouds and through them. It breathes.
Blue dragonflies alight on hair roots, catching the sun, merging, melting into a midsummer sky. They are here. Here they are. Not forsaken nor forbidden, but finding their flight tentatively through the humid skin of language. It is no barrier. It is translucent and veined like a leaf that has spent the summer in shadow, hidden away with beetles and bugs. A wind settles like dew drops on the air, condenses on its branches, the branching tentacles of tongues. So this is what air tastes like, this is cloud and earth and leaf litter scattered with inflorescence. This is essence. As if you didn’t know.
2 Comments
12/24/2017 07:31:05 am
The thoughts are mumbling in your head. I do feel the same thing at a lot of times. I feel suffocated by it that I do things that I must not do. Your post is an eye-opener to people like me who experiences it. It is a good post and is refreshing. It inspired me to work harder so that I can clear my mind in the best way I can do. I hope that this can really help me to go through everything. I am so much grateful for this.
Ilse
12/25/2017 08:24:12 am
Thank you. Go with the flow and flow with the language. All the best! Leave a Reply. |
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