Post Number: 13
|Posted on Sunday, April 17, 2005 - 1:40 pm: ||
...songs can be heard and thunder felt. Sun, wind and snow. The river flows with the rock. Giving to place and time. Like a ghost, I walk the sodden trails of the forest, of river valleys and mountains. The gift of open space and being. Moving in mind, soul and body. Today I travel with the wind in my breast. I listen and feel the spirit. My craft guides me silently. I need not know my destination. I wander the ridges, walking in the earth, on the clouds through the rain. In quest I learn, never knowing all never wanting to. I sit with shamans and spirituality. On routes of commerce and exploration of understanding and meaning.
Great birds carry the sound of ancient campfires washing over dusk. Time passes. Uncomplicated, beautiful. Soon I will be in my home again with familiar tools and companions to share the night. Forever the brigade travels, until flesh becomes earth, to the breeze it is given, to the sky it is taken.