Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Dreams by day, mares by night Dreams by day, mares by night; demons wait till lids shut tight like a driver asleep at the wheel. They squeal in delight to dump whatever horror I need to relive over and over and over again. You're there somewhere hidden by others, but sensed, none-the-less, and silent. I seek you in life's labyrinth as walls shift to block my way. I need to hear your voice. But others shout in my ear and I can only hear my heartbeat every time they scream; No, it's not daylight's dreams I fear when demonic mares gather each sunset and softly neigh. Go away, I answer, unable to stay awake. KE [177.38] (17.aprille.2020) Note: For years, I had recurring nightmares searching for a friend I could not find. They have thankfully dissipated over time. |