Walk with me
among the sentinels
in dying light
The dimming sky cracked
by skeletal canopies
into shards, slices
Stepping our path through
faded illumination
seeking fairy rings
Under The Old Man
we’ll stop, shed clothes and pretense
and dance like witches
We’ll scoff dusk and cold
make light and heat of our own
in cathedral woods
Leave confidences
with silent guardians
and return home
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No dying light…it is ever before me like a calling unto myself.
Light is the breaker of sadness… as darkness is the reminder of hope beyond the night/ it is never the actual calling.
I care little for music, when there is no undercurrent of melody.
Sleep in whatever guise you choose,but always remember that light cannot be denied.
Meme~
That’s quite beautiful, Meme. Thank you.
Woven threads you intertwine of the dance between bark and air, in the luminous brush up of secrets shared at the touch of dark with dawning. In this intimacy of earthen ware you palm the cusp of erotic skin fragranced in its sexual mo(u)rning.
A beautiful write Raz.
Thank you M – your reaction is equally so.
Beautiful both. Like dark velvet, sighing through my mind.
stunning pictures, Mon, and stunning words to attend them. there is a time and a place for the barest essential of beauty, stripped, and exposed, and vulnerable; poised so tenuously on the brink of sleep, the dark night…
thank you for the journey.
nilla