AnalogMojo


A Thousand Years of Good Prayers
May 11, 2015, 9:34 pm
Filed under: wondering road | Tags:

“It begins, and ends, with tears,” the world thought as she wept herself into lakes, rivers and streams.

Pitter-pattering down from the textured expanse of clouds came well thought out twinkles, each sinning prism a testament to the regenerative power of life. Slowly, surely, she turned on her slightly tilted axis to cover her expanse with the love only the ravaging of condensed air can bring.

Tip. Tip-tap. Tip. Tip-tap. Tip-tip-tip-tip-tip;tap-tap-tap-tap. Tip. Tip-tap. Tip. Tip-tap.

And on it went, never halting in its two-step in time.  A tip landed on the nose of a woman. Her dance stopped for a moment as she gazed inquisitively at the air-made mountains in the sky. But only for a moment, only the staccato abatement of a leg, and then she was on the rhythm again.

Tip. Tip-tap. Tip. Tip-tap.

All lines, curves and hollows, the turquoise-blue-green that wound about her were not at all dampened by the downpour. In fact, as the prisms fell and broke apart against her, the colors took on a phantasmagorical sheen. Gold, silver, bronze, and all of the colors inside of the earth came out to greet the rain with her. Faster now.

Tip-tip-tap. Tip-tip-tap, tip-tap.

Air, water and the fire in her belly melded to make never before seen hues. Spinning.

Tip-tap-tap-tap-tip-tap-tap-tap.

Flowing from one element to the next, each adding its own composition to the symphonic creation of light, sound, and being. Roaring.

There are no words to describe a storm before breaking. Only the experience that is recorded in our mind’s eye, the awe of its fury, the amazingness of its expression in life nurturing bullets, the knowing that storms bring destruction and destruction is a function of change.

Of the whirling dervish that dances and laughs feverishly in the storm, the winds cooling her, the waters soothing her brow, the thunder finding companionship in her clatterous laughter, the lightning finding kinship in her shine, none of that is left. Just a single marble, ocean colored with a flickering fire inside it hangs in a newly vacant space, twirling. Ends.

 

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