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 |    Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
 Riven the rock Screeching pipes and drum beat down upon him. What foreign dreams in this land of heath, no trees to anchor the near horizon, this place of stone and frost that breaks the stone. All alone, he searches for the one whose ancient roots rove those rocks. It will not suffice to slake his thirst where springs burst forth. Riven the rock that split in two. He holds his one half firm, searches everywhere for you. © Kåre Enga 2010-06-16 [167.121]  I was thinking of Scotland (it's close to England I hear...  ) and a friend who may be descended from Scots. The image of pipes and drums started the sketch and it flowed from the riven rock from there. What does it say to me? Better to ask whether it says anything to you!I am sitting here at Bernice's with a UM MFA student and a woman with white hair. I got a sketch out of it. [167.122]   Still re-reading Hugo's essays. Good insight I have incorporated in the past, consciously or not. 60,465 |
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