Shapelessly moving through the black cold lifeless void propelled forward with purpose, its aim, its destiny is to unite with the fertile gases flowing from life on the water planet. What once seemed to be a faint speck now sharpens and grows into a sphere of blue green and white; moving closer and closer bluer, larger, richer and deeper with vast beauty. It becomes breathtaking. Humbled by its beauty, the shapeless energy slows and opens in a longing embrace with the Earth’s atmosphere. Energy meets gas creating Beauty; lighting the spectrum of colors which race forward and instantly attach to all things; everything at once has color; its own color.
Heat and vapor form cumulus cottony white clouds swollen but held pinched by bluish shadow seams with flat dark bottoms dropping droplets down through the thin cold air falling, falling in rounded form; a product of energy and life feeding life, replenishing life. Falling downward with grace and beauty water and light moving ever closer to earth. Moving closer to the lofty heights of snow capped peaks. Moving closer to life and finally touching the tops of tall living trees.
Rays drift through the evergreen boughs lighting small rainbow sphere worlds in the hanging droplets held by scented green needles. Clear silver and swirled colors are pulled by the perpetual force, the needy force that takes all to its surface. Stretching and misshapen, the droplet clings in seeming desperation before finally giving in to the persistence. Falling with its once again rounded form, it splashes upon the gently moving surface of the forest brook which accepts the gift and flows steadily beneath the evergreens.
Lapping and licking along its banks the brook winds through the forest tasting the bland chalkiness of clay and the now faint flavor of stones worn smooth along its sides. Sometimes during the stronger rains it flows fuller reaching the rich black earth beneath the fresh grasses, fallen needles and the prickly but beautiful flowering weeds higher on the bank. At such times it savors the richness; sweet, strong, even with some bitterness. It takes the things it can from the bank side darkening as I flows fuller and faster. It has always flowed forward rolling side to side meandering around the rock outcroppings and the trees which form shadow bands on its back. Its underbelly slides comfortably over the familiar bed of soft stones rounded and shaped through time.
Eddies twirl endlessly from boulder tops gurgling and serving as stepping stones which connect a shadowed trail that stopped hesitantly, questioningly on one side of the brook before dotting a broken rhythm across the brook’s back to meet the path on the other side. Trodden worn and deep, exposed soft brook stones show as smooth half moons along the side of the soft needle strewn trail. The printed history of passing animals and lighted birds is molded and etched in the soft earth along the brook’s sides. All birds and animals passing this way bend in thirst bringing the brook with them forward into the forest far, far beyond its banks.
The brook flows forward, ever forward firmly yet peaceably. Then at first a gentle sloping then steeper suddenly rushing and roaring pressed white and whiter loudly squeezed between hard stone finally releasing and falling, falling, falling further breathlessly crashing, foaming with riotous rainbow mist into a dark deep river. Turning and twirling beneath the surface the brook struggles for form. Air streams rip white downward with bubbles glistening and racing upward colliding with the body continuously falling from above. Form dissipates and darkens; wider, deeper.
Finally yielding, it finds purpose, flowing forward, ever forward, becoming the river.
Heat and vapor form cumulus cottony white clouds swollen but held pinched by bluish shadow seams with flat dark bottoms dropping droplets down through the thin cold air falling, falling in rounded form; a product of energy and life feeding life, replenishing life. Falling downward with grace and beauty water and light moving ever closer to earth. Moving closer to the lofty heights of snow capped peaks. Moving closer to life and finally touching the tops of tall living trees.
Rays drift through the evergreen boughs lighting small rainbow sphere worlds in the hanging droplets held by scented green needles. Clear silver and swirled colors are pulled by the perpetual force, the needy force that takes all to its surface. Stretching and misshapen, the droplet clings in seeming desperation before finally giving in to the persistence. Falling with its once again rounded form, it splashes upon the gently moving surface of the forest brook which accepts the gift and flows steadily beneath the evergreens.
Lapping and licking along its banks the brook winds through the forest tasting the bland chalkiness of clay and the now faint flavor of stones worn smooth along its sides. Sometimes during the stronger rains it flows fuller reaching the rich black earth beneath the fresh grasses, fallen needles and the prickly but beautiful flowering weeds higher on the bank. At such times it savors the richness; sweet, strong, even with some bitterness. It takes the things it can from the bank side darkening as I flows fuller and faster. It has always flowed forward rolling side to side meandering around the rock outcroppings and the trees which form shadow bands on its back. Its underbelly slides comfortably over the familiar bed of soft stones rounded and shaped through time.
Eddies twirl endlessly from boulder tops gurgling and serving as stepping stones which connect a shadowed trail that stopped hesitantly, questioningly on one side of the brook before dotting a broken rhythm across the brook’s back to meet the path on the other side. Trodden worn and deep, exposed soft brook stones show as smooth half moons along the side of the soft needle strewn trail. The printed history of passing animals and lighted birds is molded and etched in the soft earth along the brook’s sides. All birds and animals passing this way bend in thirst bringing the brook with them forward into the forest far, far beyond its banks.
The brook flows forward, ever forward firmly yet peaceably. Then at first a gentle sloping then steeper suddenly rushing and roaring pressed white and whiter loudly squeezed between hard stone finally releasing and falling, falling, falling further breathlessly crashing, foaming with riotous rainbow mist into a dark deep river. Turning and twirling beneath the surface the brook struggles for form. Air streams rip white downward with bubbles glistening and racing upward colliding with the body continuously falling from above. Form dissipates and darkens; wider, deeper.
Finally yielding, it finds purpose, flowing forward, ever forward, becoming the river.
No comments:
Post a Comment