From spectacle to symbolism,
When the turning leaf is the fall of time,
The fragile petal is the fragility of life,
The glint of light in the eye is the fire of the human spirit;

We elevate through understanding,
We emote through sensation,
We translate through reflection;
We live in art to let the metaphor blow our minds..... 

Rain

Stillness. 
Such maddening, stifling stillness.
A silence that hushes the world like a blanket.
The birds and insects quieted in daylight, 
A thickness of the atmosphere that dulls
Even the whispers of the trees. 

And then......
Roaring, 
A wind the breath of a hundred demons,
An exhalation of victory and triumph,
A thunderous fanfare of the spirits of air;

And it started to rain.

Be Here Now

Be here now. Live it. Feel it. Be it. 

Because it too shall pass and this time won't come again. 

Every hill is a foothold to a mountain. Every storm is a prelude to a sunny day. Every heartbreak is an introduction to the strength of your soul. 

Every note needs to be followed by another to make music. 

Awakening

For years, she slept. Her petals curled tightly around her, a silent velvet cocoon that held her close inside, softened by shadows, muted by silence. 

And then the rains came, unrelenting. Tears fell from the sky to stain her cloak, soak her skin. Until she could stand no more. 

And she began to unfurl.... 

It Begins Like A Dream

It begins like a dream, 

Something vague, subtle, quiet,

A thought, just a thought, 

Turning round on itself

Growing in power

Chanted in the echoing chambers

Of the mind, 

Until it is resonating, like a bell, 

Like a chorus of bells, 

Tolling over and over. 

Just a thought. 

Just a word. 

Just a name. 

In Dreams

And I lay down, to sleep, to dream, of icy rivers sunk in caverns so deep, the waters were black; of shadows that hovered in the rock, whispering my name as I drifted past; of soft, haunting cries that came from above, so high, so out of sight, I knew not what called.... and I dreamed, seemingly endlessly swept along in the cold, echoes and ghosts dogging my passage, like weary voices on the wind... 

Forged In Fire

Make me glass
So that when I break,
I shatter.
So that there are no pieces to pick up and put back together.
So that I may place myself in fire,
Melt me down, redesign me,
Return whole, polished and new,
Without cracks
Or lines of glue.

She Loves

She loves steel and glass, and worships trees.
She loves glossy magazines and handmade couture,
And wears black.
She loves dark stormy nights because they won't let her sleep.
She loves caravans when they're parked outside.
She loves tiny houses and wants to live in a warehouse.
She loves mirror balls and dance music,
and doesn't like neon.
She loves pop artists and post-modern expressionism,and is inspired by Michelangelo.
She loves men who thrive in their solitude, and own the crowd.
She loves women that don't make comparisons.
She loves passion and desire, and romance and laughter, and walks through life alone.
She loves the darkness because shadows have secrets.
She loves the light because she blinds herself.
She loves truth and beauty, the imagination and knowledge.
She loves childhood and innocence, because she has seen too much.
She loves fantasy because it explains reality.
She loves love, despises cruelty, and knows they travel hand in hand.
She adores nature, and lives in the city.
She loves silver, because it is beautiful, hard, made in darkness, and reflects the light.....