Open Poetry #33 |
Limit of Endurance - Sunday's story |
Honeybunch Member Rara Avis
since 2001-12-29
Posts 7115South Africa |
At the limit of endurance no footsteps carry on and the sand ahead smooth and flat, dry, undisturbed, paints no picture perfect to catch and hold the eye of a distant and remote viewer of the land. And yet beneath the obvious rolling fields do lie waiting like a baby for the sense of hungry needs to emit a plea for nourishment into the atmosphere and bring the great provider rushing to its side. Bound as the viewer is with weariness of soul the hands of compassionate lie useless and unused till the sand drifts away, rolling fields loose all hope, and hills that could have been large imposing mountains are denied the right of birth on the level ground of earth. But in the depths of mystery unseen fingers play knot/unknot the cords like love me/love me not till the viewer agitated spins forward from the game and takes one giant leap into the great unknown. There is no protection or awareness of consequence waiting on the ground like a king sized bed and mattress but around the feet of energy are tied love’s safety cords to gently place he who jumps onto new and fertile ground. And look! There’s a mountain, grass beneath the feet, hands to relieve, trees, rivers, you and me … and no hungry needs waiting to cry out! |
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© Copyright 2004 Helen - All Rights Reserved | |||
Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
quote: Oh, yes, that's the secret, dear Helen! Uplifting and beautifully written! Love, Margherita |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Thank you for this, Helen. |
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