Written 10-12-09, Boulder CO.
Inspired by music. Listening to one of my absolute favorite movie soundtracks of all time: “Once”, by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
Work in progress
It was like the smell of green.
Supurb and sublime and unattainable.
The darkness smells like a candle burning toward the bottom of its wick. Wax melting down in a haunting slowness.
1820s piano sounds and the candle is carried by ghosts through a hallway that leads through generations, eras, and centuries.
The wild Irish countryside that smells like mystery and romance and woodsmoke.
The sounds – simple notes put to a complicated pattern that then passes with raw, real talent and passion through vocal chords
They rest and smile and laugh like a perfect snowy sunny day. The snow slowly reacts to the sun – drip, drip, drip.
Ephemeral perfection that dreams hopelessly of reality.
A cracked window and a medium close up. Gazing across the landscape.
This experience is feeling beautiful. And I don’t even have makeup on.
It’s alive with art and youth and unashamed joy.
Seagulls and sand
Blue and the deepest warmth.
These sights fill my body and an unbelievable, calm happiness catches in my chest.
Simultaneous wonder, worry about my inability to share this enchantment with anyone.
Like a still lake at dawn – a single breeze moves over the mirror surfaced of the water. Ripples fold over each other like silk before settling again.
Like a childhood memory – yearning to understand.
Long shadows create an ancientness. The pine trees are like dreamcatchers. Sun rays jump off pinecones and my hands on the cabin deck rail gently slide feeling the roughness of the wood, my fingers lightly brushing to avoid splinters.