Quiet solitude Boundless existence A timeless interlude Whispers of the moon The roar of stillness Deserts unnameable tune The return of a soul At home in the unknown Burning stories of old Walking through infinity The mystery deepens Life’s virginity ~ To you, Hanan. For your world of dreaming
Little do I know I am soon no more to roam Change is at hand So very close To where I stand An emerald land where myths are alive Where even a wandering soul Can live and thrive Little do I know I am to call it home Or perhaps,
When the lines get blurred We end up getting hurt Mountains fade Walking in an old shade Growing toxicity Loosing touch with simplicity Small things Become big things Slow to understand Allowing an old seed to be in command Not hearing the whisper of the inner voice The one
Mountain strength Ancient tongue People of the sea To this county belong Tranquil Fjord Yet shadows dwell Descendants of the hound son Lived through famine from hell Weaving through the cycle of life Clear streams forever flow Gentle and prudent hands Planting new seeds to grow ~
How to fly when your wing is broken? How to rise from a hidden wound unspoken? ~ What if our existential fear is not that of dying, but that of really living? It’s known in psychotherapy and psychology that we have an existential fear of dying that is the
Looking deep Into a boundless lake Of existence Of being Of life’s ache What do you see? Perspectives spinning What stories within Are winning? Is the sky blue Behind and underneath the clouds? Is the world turned upside down? Does it make you believe You are about to drown? Or
On the edge Greeting death Raw. Exposed Still. Disclosed Dissolving From still to storm Reborn…
The Elven Queen. By CpSingleton © 2014 Click here to view the poem Another picture in MrsRedHead Photography’s “Mists of Myths” series blessed with a beautiful poem from an incredible poetic soul. He truly knows how to capture the feel of mists, myths and magic living within this picture. Co-creation
Stirring Building Groaning Churning Smiling Teasing Poking Yearning The freedom to be The eye of love to see The life within you and me… ~ The words was called out by a comment-exchange with Michele D’Acosta on my previous post “Yggdrasill” If you have a moment or three to
This old photo of mine seems to draw in poets, musicians and writers alike… it’s the cover for my friend Andre Feriante’s new winter album called A Winter Soliloquy and now the talented weaver of words; C.P.Singleton has offered this beautiful poem to it. I am deeply honored. And I
How does the world look to ye what does your eyes see what is your reality does it hold a ‘we’ or solely a ‘me’ is there a key to integrity simplicity dignity to Be ? WPC: Juxtaposition
“Except during the nine months before he draws his first breath, no man manages his affairs as well as a tree does.” George Bernard Shaw
Hanne T. Fisker Photography Art 