Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 19.0: Spring 2007
Pulse...
by Belinda Roddie
Energy pulses.
Pulses, throbs, from the mountains
overlooking snowy fields.
Energy flies.
Higher than the plane that shatters clouds
into a million tiny pieces
that scuttle through the air and melt on red horizon.
Energy never dies.
See the little creature
sleeping in the folds and scars of my fortune teller hands.
How warm,
it sends a golden shaft through my skull
and holes are dug where we seldom go to see a new dimension on the sea.
Energy never dies.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since Spring 2007.
by Belinda Roddie
Energy pulses.
Pulses, throbs, from the mountains
overlooking snowy fields.
Energy flies.
Higher than the plane that shatters clouds
into a million tiny pieces
that scuttle through the air and melt on red horizon.
Energy never dies.
See the little creature
sleeping in the folds and scars of my fortune teller hands.
How warm,
it sends a golden shaft through my skull
and holes are dug where we seldom go to see a new dimension on the sea.
Energy never dies.
The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since Spring 2007.
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