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From a Dream
The wear-worn pads of his whitish-grey paws- fur matted and frozen in snow, claws coated with ice- crunch through the white chilled blanket of flakes of frozen rain. Pants of breath form small clouds about his ebony nose and disappear as swiftly as they come. Whiskers, sharp as swords, twitch in the cold ignoring the glass water coating their senses. Ice-eyes- dark pupils reflecting a fire within, gaze unblinking and constant- scan every corner of the white-layered forest, un-fazed by the moaning of the wind. White pieces of sky descend serenely and settle upon the coarse fur, no longer melting as they once had. Instead, they gather in small piles working in among the greys, whites, and light browns of each thick hair. Yet no bit of winter stings the proud hunter. No trees groaning under the weight of the snow could startle him. He listens for their calls among songs of small brave birds and scrambling of rabbits and prey. The echoed howlings and mournful songs reach his sharp angled ears. And the wolf returns to lead his pack to follow his destiny. I wonder what it is like to be "that woman."
The woman who walks in the room and demands everyone’s attention. The woman with the dark eyes, full of mystery and magic that draw in both men and women, and makes them yearn to know the secrets hidden within. The woman with the cascading raven hair that evokes ballads from minstrels and sonnets from poets. The woman who leaves a nearly physical spirit behind with anyone who has ever been fortunate enough to touch her. The woman whose vision lingers in dreams and whose voice echoes softly amidst whispers. The woman with fingers tender enough to caress the most delicate of mists and nails hard enough to pierce the harshest of stones. The woman whose influence is remembered when her existence has long faded. The woman men rally to defend though she possesses her own strength for battle. The woman who runs drenched amidst a thunderstorm to challenge the lightning with her fists. The woman whose passion is not seen with eyes but perceived by souls. The woman whose laughter can illuminate the darkest of days if only in a memory. The woman who can carry the heaviest and saddest of hearts upon her shoulders without a single faltering step. The woman who lingers on the edge of darkness while clinging to the shadows of moonlight. The woman who cherishes the girl of her past while knowing that she is intertwined with the goddess of her future. That woman within and without me. The air was very still tonight
The glow of fireflies the only light I heard a rumbling in the distance Mother Nature in her usual dance. A cloudy darkness, thick and warm Will be no drier after the storm And yet to breathe it in brings comfort For someone of the simple earthy sort. Bare feet upon upon a cool deck I step to the railing just to check What stretches beyond the open field And wonder what life will someday yield. The first big drops of rain start to fall I close my eyes, smile, enjoy it all My skin, my clothes, my hair all wet But I am not ready to go inside yet. There is something so cleansing about warm rain How it opens my heart and washes away the pain So many dreams I haven't claimed My spirit wild and forever untamed. I am a lover, fighter, champion and friend Who like the willow has learned to bend For in this life there are no rewards To those who never lay down their swords. There must be balance to keep things going To accept and understand that even hurt is worth knowing The lessons are not always fun And some battles can not be won. Every storm comes fierce and strong But such power and fury can't last long And when peace returns and turmoil is gone There will always be a brighter and more beautiful dawn. |
AuthorMy words are like my brush strokes, I'm never quite sure where they'll flow to and when they'll stop. Categories
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May 2013
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