Post by MissTris on Aug 31, 2010 0:48:16 GMT -5
Here is my DA, I'm a writer, but like to draw a little too, though I cannot do people for the life of me. aithne-aisling.deviantart.com/
and this is a taste of my work on a pure, sweet day. I hope it touches you a little.
I stand at the precipice, but unlike those people who have time and again leapt from it I stand solid and proud. I stand with my head high sniffing the wind that blows over the bald grey and red stones spattered, lovingly by lord time, with Lichen. The scent of pine below me, mixed with the sharp bite of the oncoming storm and my own scent, float past my nose and around my face like the locks of golden hair, left down...nothing should be pent up when it is wild and beautiful.
Eyes that see what man does fail to at first glance, eyes sharp and blue, gold ringed throughout as though autumn had come through those pretty eyes, and left some leaves behind. They glitter with hope and love. A lust that cannot be filled by something so simple as Man and his physical ways. Only the breath of the mountains, the lovers’ hiss of the sea could satisfy the unseen wants. These things with which man may change, but cannot capture.
Green clad arms wide I smile and let sound be heard, my own tunes winding with the calls from around me, the swift and sharp kree of the hawks and skittering of fearful mice. Below the Catbird sings a tune and the Crow returns a warning. I cannot see them with these keen blue eyes but I can see them, with my being.
I raise my arms higher, to kiss the cobalt and grey toned sky with my own voice, my own pleasure and thanks, as mist comes gently landward, freed from the roiling clouds. It is not angry, this forgiving, life giving rain.
Below now, I feel, in my bones that are the earth, the deer settle in Laurel bushes, and squirrels dart and chatter, trying to avoid the now fat drops that fall from the heavens above. There a skinny tired vixen, wet but proud, in her mouth is a vole, testifying her purposes and her family’s need. A smile leaks onto my face, gathering rain at the edges as it grows like the little violets on the rocks below me, showing the world their wonderful tones and their sweet little smiles too.
I turn about in circles unafraid of falling, as I know the world will hold me; love me with all it can, a sweeter embrace I can never find but in these pockets of true life.
If I fell, the world will catch me, and hold me forever with it, because I am it and it is I. I twist about, no longer simply me, but the late robin caught in the rain, I am the deer dancing from patch of sweet grass and clover to the small trees, I am the mushrooms that grow amid the sharp and powerful pines and loving little purple clovers that spring from the grass.
I am the falling rain and gentle mists that crawl over the rolling hills of green. I am the solid and ever living rock and soil that covers all from the highest points to the deepest sea floors.
Today I am more than simply what I look to be. Today I do stand truly living, today I stand as Me.
and this is a taste of my work on a pure, sweet day. I hope it touches you a little.
I stand at the precipice, but unlike those people who have time and again leapt from it I stand solid and proud. I stand with my head high sniffing the wind that blows over the bald grey and red stones spattered, lovingly by lord time, with Lichen. The scent of pine below me, mixed with the sharp bite of the oncoming storm and my own scent, float past my nose and around my face like the locks of golden hair, left down...nothing should be pent up when it is wild and beautiful.
Eyes that see what man does fail to at first glance, eyes sharp and blue, gold ringed throughout as though autumn had come through those pretty eyes, and left some leaves behind. They glitter with hope and love. A lust that cannot be filled by something so simple as Man and his physical ways. Only the breath of the mountains, the lovers’ hiss of the sea could satisfy the unseen wants. These things with which man may change, but cannot capture.
Green clad arms wide I smile and let sound be heard, my own tunes winding with the calls from around me, the swift and sharp kree of the hawks and skittering of fearful mice. Below the Catbird sings a tune and the Crow returns a warning. I cannot see them with these keen blue eyes but I can see them, with my being.
I raise my arms higher, to kiss the cobalt and grey toned sky with my own voice, my own pleasure and thanks, as mist comes gently landward, freed from the roiling clouds. It is not angry, this forgiving, life giving rain.
Below now, I feel, in my bones that are the earth, the deer settle in Laurel bushes, and squirrels dart and chatter, trying to avoid the now fat drops that fall from the heavens above. There a skinny tired vixen, wet but proud, in her mouth is a vole, testifying her purposes and her family’s need. A smile leaks onto my face, gathering rain at the edges as it grows like the little violets on the rocks below me, showing the world their wonderful tones and their sweet little smiles too.
I turn about in circles unafraid of falling, as I know the world will hold me; love me with all it can, a sweeter embrace I can never find but in these pockets of true life.
If I fell, the world will catch me, and hold me forever with it, because I am it and it is I. I twist about, no longer simply me, but the late robin caught in the rain, I am the deer dancing from patch of sweet grass and clover to the small trees, I am the mushrooms that grow amid the sharp and powerful pines and loving little purple clovers that spring from the grass.
I am the falling rain and gentle mists that crawl over the rolling hills of green. I am the solid and ever living rock and soil that covers all from the highest points to the deepest sea floors.
Today I am more than simply what I look to be. Today I do stand truly living, today I stand as Me.
