and my love is to the ancient - Mountains, worn, well loved from earth and by air. Trees given to a first bloom before the dawn of ax and man. Things that have endured. They teach from appearance, weathered from storm and time, whispering a once common language, now lost, yet still eager to reach my ear. What's seen is mystery carved deep in stone and bark, what's heard is the instrument of wind, air blown sharp through the ages. What's known is stillness, motion slowed past the mark of time, to just almost a standstill, the patient crawl of the long enduring. This too is my own nature, waiting to be recognized again, reclaimed - it's about allowing life, to be shaped by storms and worn by wind, exposed to forces beyond control. Yet always, fully, accepting what is and what's to come. In mid life - I find myself ancient too. I have endured, well loved from earth and by air.
~
Peace,
Eric
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