A Photo Essay ~ A Few Pictures Tell a Few Stories

 

I don’t know if you saw me,
Standing on the edge of your forest.

   

You were gazing deep into something,
sullenly, or perhaps solemnly, sadly
Or then again, maybe even wisely.

   

Oh what a beautiful, old sage
You are.

   

And I think painfully so.
The skeletal enchantment
Of your story,
Still whispers me to sleep,
At times.

   

I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself
To even imagine that it could possibly be true,
That I might actually believe you could
Hear something, or then again – imagine that
You could possibly hear nothing.

   

You know,
I was told once that we shared a language.
It’s perhaps been forgotten somehow.
And yet, you remind me of ancient words
That had no pen,
But sang a full day.

   

I couldn’t help but wonder,
If there was a life, or a time, or a memory,
Or a dream that had crossed both our paths,
Broken,
Somewhere here at the edge of the forest.

   

And if I stayed awhile,
Might there be time to wonder
A bit more about the hour
Of this day? This dream?

   

There were never any promises made.
And maybe that is one of my greatest mistakes.

   

So, if its okay with you,
I would like to spend some time
Believing in the things you tell me
That might be true, for you.

   

And maybe,
In the weaving,
You might see me
Standing on the edge of your forest.
And invite me in.

   
  

By | 2013-07-07T16:01:02+00:00 July 7th, 2013|Blog|0 Comments

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