Sanctuary Sublime

Started Aug 12, 2011 | Discussions thread
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Detail Man
Detail Man Forum Pro • Posts: 16,682
Sanctuary Sublime

LX3 RW2 hand-held, FL=30mm, ISO=125, F=2.8, S=40, MP=8.76, DxO, Lanczos, USM :

In secret places of sanctity, through time and tides,
aeons pass within moments, like droplets of sweet rain
slowly nurturing perennial swaths of emerald green mosses
gently wrapping around Nature's primeval, delicate frame,
eventually finding their way back to the ancient Salish Sea

While thoughtfully perched upon primeval, stoic stones
embraced and softly caressed by the lady of the creek,
dark nights of the soul immersed within tempestuous seas
wane with dawn's graceful glow; remembrances of eternity
amidst moments timeless, within sanctuaries sublime.

Through such places of quiet sanctity I often wander
amidst a sliver of ancient evergreen forest abounding
with lush mosses, ferns, plethoric and ubiquitous flora
gently embracing perennial springs and sacred streams
slowly finding their way to ponds, lakes, and the Sea.

Those who came before us here for some 12,000 years
held similar metaphors for river, mouth, and language.
Stoic stones amidst the creeks still make water speak
of aeons before, of Nature's gravity unheard amidst
today's concrete jungle; beyond ontological vanity.

Oft while lightly perched upon mossy, stoic stones
amidst the natural wonder of yet unspoiled streams
a little bird protean wistfully daydreams of visiting
secret lush and green places of timeless sanctity,
glimpses of Nature's primeval and delicate frame,

timeless beauty, perennial swaths of emerald moss,
ancient flora flourishing amidst lush and muddy bogs,
rocks gently caressed by the dear lady of the creek
having, merely a few blinks before in the eye of time,
nurtured what may have been the earth's tallest trees.

The cool, damp soil abounds with reverberations of time,
signs of those who came before for some 12,000 years;
human hearts, hopes, struggles, standings, and fears,
trails smoothed by many feet, many unrecognized tears
fallen into eternal springs joining the lady of the creek.

Following this conscious stream as she winds, by gravity,
one part above the ground, with three parts as well below,
she finds her riverine essence, gathering her timeless stones
of ancient origin so long ago in the taciturn folds of eternity,
where only the stillness confides that which was once to be.

She gently sings to them, eventually softening even the edges
of the most stoic and ragged of rocks with her hydroxyl touch,
nurturing mysterious and seemingly unlikely alliances sublime,
incarnations of sentient intention from which an order derives
for a time, corporeal emergences of flora and fauna sublime.

Gathering strength from her respite, and gently called by gravity,
meandering slowly yet gracefully while making her way to the sea,
bounding forth in her journey allied with newly found fresh springs,
the lady of the creek unseen to all but most delicate eyes dreams,
"Will you be young with me? The dust is nothing. The soul is all."

Mystery constitutes the processional inverse
of all conceptualization and explanation;
limitless horizon beyond measure;
treasures beyond possession;
awareness without certainty;
remembrances of eternity.

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