Searching for the memory, hidden among shadow; the code within silence, a gentle hum that sings as she sleeps. The morning chorus, the wind shook trees, whispering softly to us. All the pain of creation and experience, shaking loose into dark light; and then the land plays the old song to embrace it in new light; rain falls onto flowers releasing a fragrant air, and every time she speaks, there is the sound of birds.
The sound of birds
Posted - Jun 11 2010 : 6:50:07 PM
Thank you apachechief.
