Golden, Golden, Gone

golden ash tree

 

Golden splendour crowns him King,

Overlord of his domain;

Golden is his golden ring,

Golden as his golden reign.

.

Invincible his golden throne,

Iron is his sceptred fist;

After winds of change have blown,

Golden days are gone like mist.

 

Advertisements

Winding, Winding, Ever Winding…

Image courtesy of Brian Gaynor Photography

Winding, winding, ever winding.

Incessantly insistently stubbornly winding,

Path called to reluctant Feet.

As always, she could only see a few steps in front of her nose;

Obscurity wore the pants in this relationship.

Path liked to cloak itself in mysterious profundity,

Slinking under sheets of rain,

Shrouded in turban-cloths wound into mist,

Wrapping itself tightly into fists of fog.

And always, her feet followed at Path’s insistence.

Somewhere ahead, somewhere she hadn’t been yet, was

The Self that she sought in her dreams.

Always elusive, always fleeting,

She caught glimpses reflected from the microscopic mirror-specks of

Vapour hanging pregnant in the saturated air.

Fractured form and function,

Her shattered Self mocked with seven year’s bad luck.

And yet –

The Prophesy that drove her on, that fuelled her falter,

That cried through the whispers between leaves,

Promised a rainbow of Self fulfilled;

Quest beat with courage of steel in housing of paper.

So on Feet crept, blindly faithful,

Winding, winding, ever winding…

Bridge Beckoned

Photo courtesy of Flobo Consigliere

She had never been to Never-land,

Never stepped beyond the skin and through the veil

To where dreams, dormant and restive, lie in wait.

But Bridge beckoned, and her feet heeded.

She felt the power of Bridge in her veins,

Which throbbed with mystery and awe.

She sensed the way Bridge wanted to wrap her in itself,

Merge with her DNA,

A cloak bold and ethereal and other-world.

Time dripped through the slats with the inexorable mist.

She hesitated.

What did Mist obscure?

Fear, a sharp-clawed thing, sat on her chest and perched in her lungs and robbed her blood.

But Bridge beckoned, and her feet heeded…

I ran across this image this morning and couldn’t resist asking for permission to use it.  It has entirely captured my imagination.  It is like a portal into another dimension.  Will the subject overcome her fear and cross to her destiny?    Where do you see this bridge leading?  What do you think?