Sunday, August 31, 2014

Feats of bravado.......

Feats of bravado sing their timely praises against the cement cinder blocks of time, standing in their cool loneliness on the beaches of an era, long since forgotten.

A lone silhouette stands on the rocks, casting for the next plate of food.

Wisps of smoke curl out of the whitewashed chimney, as the candles flicker in the window with an undulating expectancy.

The floorboards creak and groan with the the wind as the sandblasted pillars stand tall, replicating the columns of a temple  and the bleached wood opens the eyes to a pattern and patina, exposing itself to a quiet surrender.

Sea gulls squawk as they fly on their dogfight missions across the beach, whilst some drop muscles on the rocks, hoping to snack the tasty morsels.

A mist slowly rolls in over the petulant waves, keeping a low profile, it gently caresses the land with it's blanket of mystery and fills the voids of space and time.

It glows and expands the light, touched by the magic wand of romanticised novels, playing themselves out to their inevitable destiny, whilst any fear is exacerbated in the darkness of an overactive imagination, devoid of the intricacies of a moment, gormandised in the presence of a surrendered now.

In the cross hairs of frailty and strength, both merge willingly and consummately in a moment of gifted awareness, making it's way through the distended belly of a courage bathed in a swathe of uncertainty, and yet, mulled and forged into an extrapolation of mindful willingness and intention, held on by an inexplicable knowingness, of  the essence  of causality.

Extending oneself in a context of relevance and relativity, where a grail of harmony fleetingly exists in each and every moment that is chosen and allowed to infiltrate the barriers, raised and built to protect,, burying the fear in a place which has little capacity for holding onto something, which spreads it's toxicity so convincingly and expertly, in the conundrum of existence

The prevailing sanity is left to it's own mechanisms of survival and the choices of leading, being led or pushed are an interpretation of the perspective that is garnered through the senses, that are attuned to a flow, which, when found, illuminates the moment of being.

Washed with the warmth of another day, the moments are absorbed into a timelessness, ushering in an unfolding awe of an essence.

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