Crossing the line
into the sublime,
into nowhere and everywhere
without a care.
The trees,
they spoke to me,
in soft whispers
carried on the breeze.
Sacred promises, timeworn truths,
stored in the roots,
buried through time,
in the fertile ground,
waiting, waiting.
The ancient giants
sing through their leaves.
Swaying, unfurling, shading,
the never-ending song of creation.
Of never and always,
timeless in eternity.
Cycles of civilizations rising,
falling,
forgotten,
rewritten,
changed,
but the always same.
The spark of humanity,
the eternal soul,
the indestructible power of love.
Mother Gaia spinning,
dancing in her universe
as life dips and swirls
in reverence of undiluted memories.
Bathing in the forest’s breath,
connecting to damp soil,
as natures symphony
echoes in the weighted silence.
Never to be silenced.
Always to endure,
in the realities of
our heart centered beauty,
as the arbors dream
their never-ending dreams.
About the Creator
A.N.Tipton
I am a Writer, a Lover of Books, a Mother & an Usui Reiki Master who loves to read & write & all things Universal. Words move me, inform me, inspire me.
https://linktr.ee/A.N.Tipton
© 2023 A. N. Tipton
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Six Feet Under
Buried alive. What a horrible way to go. Yazz lay there, in her own thoughts. What else could she do? She was hungry, thirsty, tired, mentally, and physically exhausted, and more than anything, she was bored. She hoped she would die of boredom before anything else, anything else would've been more painful. Like many people had, she and her friends had talked about what they reckon the worst ways to die were, it was a morbid subject, but it came up every now and again. Yazz had always been one to argue her point on drowning, others had mentioned burning alive, slowly and painfully bleeding to death, hung drawn and quartered, and being starved to death. It was strange that none of them had considered being buried alive, it had never come up. But now, she was thinking back to those conversations her and her friends had had, how could they have not thought about it? It took a lot longer than the others, you were completely confined, you couldn't move or do anything, you just had to wait, until your body was physically unable to support a life system anymore, which could take up to four days. Four! By far the longest out of all of them. She recounted some of these conversations just to try and pass the time, anything to pass the time. It was difficult to know how much time had passed since she had been underground, it was difficult to know anything. There were many things that Yazz didn't know, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she'd got into the coffin, she'd just woken up there. Yazz also didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, she guessed at Tuesday, it was Sunday evening when she'd been buried alive, intentionally, and although it had felt like weeks had passed, she was still alive, which means she hadn't died from dehydration, and therefore it couldn't have been more than four days.
By Liam Storma day ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
This reminds me of being a kid and playing in the woods. I felt things that were so lovely, but didn't know how to communicate it. Love it.
The Earth does not spin. Everything else does (her Mind). And you don't need to use the word sublime in poetry. Everyone knows that poetry is supposed to be sublime or a "little beyond." Good luck. Try something a little more challenging. Call me when you have 800 pages of verse.