she, is misunderstood she brings forth such, sorrow rather like, mist in moonlight where the path is hidden and the trees with their dark foliage hide their beauty in shadows
she is, beneath it all beneath her shadow deep beneath the roots of her dark mystery she is, in her own way a spectre of love
she loves … she wishes she could love as tenderly as those mists as magical as that moon as soft as those beautiful leaves but her gothic soul, crumbles at the very thought of,
Inspired by the video of an article I read in Emergence Magazine #1 called Lost World about the destruction of the Cambodia’s Mangrove Forests for their sands. When she sees the pretend waterfall in Singapore’s Lost World complex she says, “If this was real, imagine how beautiful it would be.” and the following poem appeared.
The image with the prism rainbow is a reflection from my window and I think it looks pretty neat especially as it gives the shadow some light and fits pretty well with the story.
Thank you.
Edit.
I forgot to add some snippets from the book, so here they are 🙂
There is a silent calm travelling through his life, it permeates his being, his actions, his connections: he is a tree amongst the noises of humanity. Sometimes he thought of himself as wandering in soulless oblivion, then he thought of himself as wandering in search of she who understands. She who is equal to his silence; she who is the shadow to his tree, or he the shadow of hers.
~
Sitting one time in the silence and deathly stillness of an emerging sunrise he had a moment of acuity, for there on the horizon time was being born. He became aware of how mighty is silence and stillness and of how, even for a few seconds, this gap in time was magical and eternal. He lived in this moment and came to see the endless possibilities of thought.
~
The raven in the sunshine gleams in its blackness. Its bulky shadow gives flight to its consciousness and thus its intelligence. Its beak points while those eyes, looking beyond what mere humans can see, penetrate the arena and off into the fields of time and mystery where the knowledge of all things become known. The raven in the sunshine gleams deep in the pleasure of its secrets, and at once he sees the beauty of it all, but seeing is not having. He can hear the distant musicians. He can see the collection of art. He can see the butterfly dazzling the flower with its own beauty. He can see the clouds as they move in their silent caress of the universe. He can see the colours of humanity, and at once the pain of it all struck him with sharp needles of confusion.
~
Naked are the stars in winter as they caress the evening sky with their immense solitude, like so many leaves blinking when they fall and flutter in the breeze as moonlight kisses them. He lays upon the ground watching the rhythmic blinking where he drifts into an unconscious moment of trepidation. Dare he allow himself to sink into the flesh of life shining above him? Dare he allow his soul to touch those many deaths and births? Dare he begin to forget her so he can begin to know her? Dare he and if he dares, how does he begin?
The proof copy of my latest book has just arrived. The cover is more or less how I wanted it with it being a tad off focus, so I’m happy with it, although the grey could be a bit more grey, bit darker perhaps but screen grey and book grey do differ. Overall I like it and I’ve gone for a matte finish instead of the gloss.
Now I just need to read through and read through again, and even though I’ve read it so many times in Word and printouts I do tend to find blips in book form, but fingers crossed it’ll be ok. Aaaaand I’ve already found two items that need to be changed, grrrr haha, so it certainly won’t be ready until next year!
It’s a short story of roughly 9,000 words with poetic feelings. I’ve been calling it my Surreal, Elemental, Spiritual, Love Story. It concerns a man with his search for that mysterious elemental fragrance of life and love. We are at the end and the beginning of his transformations, his awakening, and his first steps into becoming a Listener – an Earth Angel, although as he says to a mother and daughter on a train when the daughter asks if he is one.
“There are many different kinds of Earth Angel and it isn’t our name or what we are, but it’s the closest to how we are.”
The shadow of longing of missing of not knowing touches reaches out to the universe who sends it along to those you love where they feel it in their soul
