It Was One Of Those Days

It was one of those days where even the slightest rush of wind could send my inner visions into the swirl of past loves and the cruelty of the heart

ahead of me, the light shone on the valley and hills with that perfect radiant gleam, its honey yellow glow inviting dusk to flow in

Down here, in the south-western pastures, nature had its own rhythm, and that pace nourished the spirits, while the volatile ocean nearby soothed the fires

Time would laugh, and not out of victory, but because even time enjoyed letting go now and then, and here, it knew it had no choice but to loosen its grip

these lands were governed not by the continual wonder of awareness

but of the fullness and perfection of each and every unique moment

and sometimes, moments like to rebel

Beauty was capturing its own captivation, if you would believe it

oh, it breathed its fresh and wild touch upon our skins

I yelled, I screamed, she purred

I was on the floor at this point, in victory, I had succumbed

surrender had befallen its sword upon my shoulders and I was King

my feet rose my bones

my nostrils flared and my eyes widened as I gazed upon the view below from where I called my refuge

my back, straight

From up here, the world, down there, the earth

the sphere of forgiveness and forgetfulness

smelled not of scent, nor of vision, but of knowing

of its own inner wisdom, laid bare upon its surface

in an endless variation of growth and destruction

Guadalupe, Portugal // 28”09”17


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