Jodainislame
The low ruble of a purring motor overtaken by the crunching of rocks. You have to go slow to take in what she offers; golden fields as far as the eye can see, crystal clear water begging for a sip, and the cool shade of tall trees who delight in the sun's beaming rays.
Loud echos in rhythmic timing, each one a relief, this ended up being my favorite sound. How lucky could one be to have such a strong heart.
Like flowing water in every vein, animating material cells into works of art - however tragic they may be. There is comfort in knowing some things don't decay.
Whisked away to lands that seem familiar. The grass, flowers, trees, even birds are familiar. The streams and rivers look similar to ones you've known. Familiar sounds and smells. Yet, the dark shadowy figures that linger on the horizon were completely unfamiliar.
It's flames spread, a wildfire perpetually fueled by the fear and the hatred dwelling deep inside the hearts and minds of the heartless and mindless.
How mesmerizing, new worlds of food and dance, stories and history. To engulf yourself so fully into something unknown and coming out greater for it. My wanderlust begs for new soil, new people.
Stars twinkling from ropes, not quite reaching their celestial bretheren, watching the people below gleefully. The mouth-watering smell of food cooking, warming those in it's reach and comforting the sloshing bellies of those whose cups run over.
Moody blues, hues and brews - no shrewd. My boys and I love the snow, the cold, it all tends to be more cozy this time of year. Just ignore the ticking clock.
How can it be they only know dust? Maybe ice, maybe molten rock but not life? They feel so lonely and cold.
Sometimes I couldn't give it any thought, sometimes I'd drown myself. But nothing is sweeter than the relief of a cold glass of water after a hard day's work.
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