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May. 8th, 2009 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
siren_echoesI pass through a golden valley, and time bleeds into time, past melding with present. The rolling hills, the jagged mountains, all crumple into a seabed, crushed by uncountable weight of salted water. All manner of primevil creatures live here, long lost, long forgotten. I dart and flit with them, spiralling and dancing in underwater flight, echoes of what is now ancient and gone undulating within the currents.
I wonder at how this could be as I gaze through cool glass at passing fields, massive oaks and grazing cattle. It is like another world, veiled, just hidden behind this one, but just as real. What is time? Is the past truth? Is it memory? Is it hiding in the ancient light of the stars that gift us with long dead light and life?
What is Now? What can it be? Is the mind its creator?
I am a creature of the wild, flying free and untamed, seeking something un-nameable, but in a world diminishing, slowly dying. Perhaps that which I seek is like these stars-- only a memory, wake of a dream. Is the Sun shedding light to some distant world which sees her light only long after it is extinguished? Is a lone soul gazing at her light and wondering what manner of souls have passed through her solar system, what life once walked on her planets?
A cacophony of music, of color and movement and word flames high from my soul, a funeral pyre, an effigy in your honour.
I wonder at how this could be as I gaze through cool glass at passing fields, massive oaks and grazing cattle. It is like another world, veiled, just hidden behind this one, but just as real. What is time? Is the past truth? Is it memory? Is it hiding in the ancient light of the stars that gift us with long dead light and life?
What is Now? What can it be? Is the mind its creator?
I am a creature of the wild, flying free and untamed, seeking something un-nameable, but in a world diminishing, slowly dying. Perhaps that which I seek is like these stars-- only a memory, wake of a dream. Is the Sun shedding light to some distant world which sees her light only long after it is extinguished? Is a lone soul gazing at her light and wondering what manner of souls have passed through her solar system, what life once walked on her planets?
A cacophony of music, of color and movement and word flames high from my soul, a funeral pyre, an effigy in your honour.