11/6/02
There's a Fire Deep in the Hill
Must we be fully defeated before we rise to new heights within ourselves? Must everything that was be torn down before new truth can take hold? Out of the mist the haunting flute speaks questions long hidden. My chin lowers to my chest, my eyelids rest wearily closed as if they can no longer bear to look upon this world. My face cannot even move to express, but bears a childlike surrender. Solemn, sad; I have gone deep within. The flute sweeps me back into the primeval forest. Silent as a shadow, belonging and being; one with the force that moves through all things. There is still silence, in this time; silence that speaks more truly than words. There is a fire deep in the hill, and a fire inside me. I sit suspended in time through the sunrises and sunsets that divide the physical world, carried by the haunting melody, a timeless spirit flowing through forgotten worlds, wrapped in the whisper of things that have been, things that will be, and things that will never be.
Previous
Next
Back to Journal
Home