There was a time when I heard the birds sing; every morning. All to often we fall into that old habit and the world stops spinning; the birds stop chirping. A mad attempt to control; an obsession with cessation. The tune of human life …
I hear you brother. Through different lenses and innumerable leaves. I know this pain of counting, sorting, and labeling. Although time seems to block our communion, the tail sometimes does wag the dog. Visible only through the keyhole, but the rest can …
The breathing clock A prototype The feeling of light on the skin The vessel vibrates Stillness moving Silence buzzing A thousand nights of Emptiness.
No sense No reason Here Passing A leaf on the wind A smile in the breeze Remember
By Crystal Hill Guest Blogger Static trough the glass door. A waterfall in my living room. The night is dancing. The sweet lullaby of eternity.
