stumbling in the dark...

10 October 2017 12:00 AM
The light coursed through her like a knife, I am to heal, does the energy have to slice me, dice me, burn me up from the inside, and leave the ashes in my wake, don't know I'm jumbled up today, forgot part of my meditation, a vital part...there, went back and did it, a CHAKRA meditation where I do the hand yoga, visualizations and the mantra associated with each chakra I HIGHLY recommend it..

He pulled at the bells in the temple the cord was thick and rubbed the palms of his hands, but he had calluses from his enthusiastic yanks on this temple bell in the past, his brown burlap like robe, I know it isn't burlap, but the texture and look is close, he is smiling, listening to the bells as they ring out over the land, pray, bow down and pray...
she is sitting on the bench at the top of the hill her fancy umbrella tied up, she has it pointed down resting her gloved hand on the handle, it is white lace, like her long, gown and the hat with its flowers and the long sash which is tied under her chin she is reading from a book she is a formal creature, but I think she harboring an anger, an energy restrained, her plucked eyebrows are lowered, her eyes flash dark, but she is restrained her legs crossed, I think she is waiting for someone and he has not come yet, so she whiles away, reading is better than tapping her fingers and/or breaking her umbrella over some poor sap's head, the grove of trees are at the edge of this park, it is like a gentle roller coaster, caught in the middle, a blanket shook, with a snap and stopped - and that is these rolling hills, she finally snaps her book shut and puts it into her pocket she walks to the edge of the park, to call for a carriage, horse and buggy perhaps she wasn't waiting for anyone, perhaps she trying to spend time away from the house, cool down, something wasn't right and rather than start an argument she choose to leave, go for a day out, parade around and let people see how elegant she is, ha...
there are trumpeter swans in the pond. She and the swans have a lot in common, both will not say what is bothering him her it...
the monk who rang the bell is returning to his chambers, his cell, prayers are over, time for quiet time, he unlike this woman was happy to choose this style of living...