|
|
The place that I love the most is a place where I’ve never really been. I may never be able to go there, but I visit there every time I view a captured moment, either stole by photograph, painting, or motion picture. I also find myself there whenever I close my eyes and permit myself to venture into a time long before me.
A period, where a lazy satellite retired to with its path clear of obstructions, was regressing with its ebony. A blue hue of the ceiling reveals its untouched self. When the yellow nova, rose above Gaia. Sleepy flowers reveal themselves, to the soothing rays, bathing luxuriously. Allowing green blades awaken rising, listlessly brushing droplets of dew, to the ground below.
Rolling hills allow for a mare to graze upon it, carelessly. The soft cries of glee’s only competition being a bird’s awaken their calls. Their wings flap slowly over a beautiful stream.
A babbling stream runs freely over gently mounds and small rises, Earth slowly reclaiming it. Time worn pebbles bask as liquid passes over them, further wearing them and reducing their bodies.
Emerald carpet resumes its conquest forward, towards a large monolithic structure. Stones resume their reign upon the earth, this time not placed by Gaia herself, but by another creature. An intricate structure erected by many, and enjoyed by few, which they bowed under, is a beautiful sight to behold. Worn chipped faces stand in line obediently, remaining where they were placed, eons ago. Rough wood planks cover the floor and meet the rock once again.
Beyond the shadow of this giant stand a more beautiful vista, pine and lumber. Smells of the pine entice any creature to venture forward into a luscious maze. Leaves introduce themselves as they fall to the ground, being crushed by a careless, furry being. It’s tail stands tall as its nose twitches to find nourishment.
Red spheres sit high in the arms of the wooden giants and wait to be enjoyed by any creature that may wish to feast upon it. A bramble of sticks lie here also, with small spotted ovals resting until their time comes.
A bird sings its beautiful tale as it returns to its home, a place hidden by time forever to us all.
An epoch, forgotten by many, buried by the ages and lost forever. A place so serene, beautiful and peaceful, that it is a shame that we’ve left it behind us, never to be found again.
|
1
Tags
You must be logged in to add tags.
|
Writer Profile
Jason Edwards
This user has not written anything in his panorama profile yet.
|
Comments
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.
|
|
