Monday, September 5, 2011

We like the clouds, the clouds are very good to us...




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11 comments:

  1. The Silent RavenSeptember 10, 2011 at 3:21 PM

    (Bowing my head before the clouds), thank you for your happy existence, friends of the heavens. I really have no idea how I'd make it without you.

    The second picture is my favorite. No, the first. No, the third. Ahhh, how can I choose? They're all so beautiful.

    What's on your mind, Amoniel? What's on your heart? I wish to know.

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  2. AmonielSeptember 12, 2011 at 4:38 PM

    Sunflowers and weird dreams, silver and chocolate.

    What is on your mind? I miss you.

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  3. The Silent RavenSeptember 13, 2011 at 5:50 PM

    Hmmm.
    Harvest moons and Heaven-on-Earth, airplanes and fireflies.

    I miss you too, dear. Would you like to hear a story? (It's only a little 'un).

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  4. AmonielSeptember 13, 2011 at 5:56 PM

    Yes, I love stories :)

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  5. The Silent RavenSeptember 14, 2011 at 4:52 PM

    It was one of the few snowy days which I had ever experienced, and it was wonderful. The roads were coated, as were the lawns and the rooftops. It was all white, no grey; all delight, no inconvenience. The last few years, whenever our Lady Winter blesses us with snow, I have always gone to the woods a little ways from my house to walk and meditate in solitude.
    On this particular visit (at evening), I was captivated by the world around me: the ground was thick with the snow, and as it had been untouched by Man’s feet, the surface of it sparkled in the fading sunlight. The dark trees rose to meet each other high above my head, and I could hear their faint, excited whispers. The air was cold and rigid, yet there were still birds which broke the quiet with their songs, and squirrels who broke the stillness with their scampering.
    In my passion, I delved further into the woods than I had ever gone before. I got lost, and it was very nearly night.
    I had been following the footprints which I had left in the snow the night before, but had wandered away from them and couldn’t return. So I stood there in the deep snow, feeling the sting of the wind on my skin and the snowflakes’ kisses on my face and closing my eyes, in order to really open them. A little later, after I had walked some more, I came upon a trail of animal tracks. The realist in me, whose voice was feeble and unwanted at the moment, told me that they were a large dog’s paw prints. But the romantic in me called them a wolf’s, and the dreamer in me pronounced them to be a werewolf’s. So I followed them.
    It’s one of my most treasured memories. I followed the tracks up snowy hills and down snowy hills and around the trees and across frozen creeks, and my heart was beating so loudly that it almost began to overflow. It made me so happy to pursue such a mysterious creature!
    Then, all of a sudden, the tracks stopped. All the while, it had been rather vague where they were going, but I had been able to follow them. But then, probably because the snow had covered them, they were gone, and I couldn’t pursue my animal friend any longer. A little put out, I sat down in the cold, cold snow and breathed in the wintery scene.
    As has happened with a few of my poems, I feel like what I did next was not my own doing. I stood up, and carved a large circle in the snow, silently and solemnly. When I finished, I left my handprint in the very center of the circle, taking care to not step inside of it. Then I wrote a word inside of it which I cannot remember even now. But it was a sacred word, I know.
    And little by little, I found my way home in the nighttime.
    The next day, at dusk, I returned. I saw fresh dog/wolf/werewolf tracks around where they had been before. They stopped very close to the place where I had been sitting. I revisited the circle, to see if it was still there, and what was next to my handprint and my sacred word?
    I could debate with myself forever whether or not this was the way I thought it was, but I resolved later that week that there was a single, faint paw print in the snow.
    The prints were gone the next day, and they never returned. I came back only a week ago, in the summertime, to my circle; it, of course, was melted. But in its place was an assortment of brightly colored flowers. And I heard a robin’s song.

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  6. AmonielSeptember 14, 2011 at 6:42 PM

    Ah, Raven, I wish I was as cool as you.
    You are a true story teller, and what is more, you are a true story-live-er.

    I enjoyed that story very much. Danke.

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  7. The Silent RavenSeptember 15, 2011 at 3:09 PM

    Nah, we're both cool in our own way, Amoniel.

    Did you catch the symbolism? Or the void which pretends to be symbolism? Or perhaps the symbolism which pretends to be a void pretending to be symbolism?

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  8. AmonielSeptember 15, 2011 at 3:46 PM

    I danced in the lightest sprinkle of cool rain last night, Raven. Two cats and, occasionally, my dad, were my only audience. The moon was a latecomer, though I did catch her peeking after I had gone to bed.

    Now you sound like Jack Sparrow :) And I'm afraid I missed the hide-and-seek game of symbolism. Would you care to help me net it, late as I am?

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  9. The Silent RavenSeptember 15, 2011 at 5:18 PM

    A pretty memory. One that might be reflected on the curved surfaces of rain droplets which sparkle on a lamp lit window at nighttime. Iridescent, the dance. Were your cats impressed? And your dad?

    Hee hee. You have to guess first.

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  10. AmonielSeptember 16, 2011 at 5:12 PM

    One of the cats was most impressed by my ear buds, and hopefully she was impressed by the fact that I didn't step on her once :) I don't know whether or not if my dad was impressed, though a family friend was very impressed when I posted about if on facebook.

    Does it have to do with the internet?

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  11. The Silent RavenSeptember 16, 2011 at 6:23 PM

    One of the most guilty feelings in the world can be induced by accidentally stepping on a cat's tail. Poor things.

    What I love about the snow is that it bears an imprint of travels. When one looks at footprints or animal tracks, he is observing the journey of a body and soul, and all the choices involved. It's like a mirror on the ground, except more obscure and more beautiful. It's partly why I meditate in the woods when it snows; I am more in tune with the way the world moves. I got excited that night/time of my life and left my path in pursuit of something else which I heard in the wind, and I couldn't find my way back. But what I did encounter was much more meaningful and wild than my own footsteps, so I followed it. I became something else: who I am now (thank God). Sometimes the tracks stop, and I don't know where the 'Silent Raven' is supposed to lead me, so I draw a prayer into the snow. And the Silent Raven always approves of prayer. The snow and the prayer might melt, but what became of them will always be there (flowers). Oh, and I threw you in there for fun; you were the robin. :)

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