The quixotic milieu of life, defies words, is not mute, pulses rhythms, and is totem in its being…
Each week The Sunday Whirl invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “Wordle’s” 12 words. This week it is:
By the Waters of Our Lives
There are many amber stones
on small journeys,
telling weighty stories
under cloud-sweet skies;
their numinous beginnings
from mystic pebbled glens,
of many frenzied atoms
cycling through nubilous troughs,
waiting their turbid turns as
emanations from an arcane source.
We’re born to stand,
maybe tall, but
ultimately, to return,
Those last lines are perfection, tying the whole piece together.
i like the allusion of tying a piece together when we write of living.
It’s the small journeys that make the whole and simply love – cloud-sweet skies – how wonderful to linger under them
I am the third stone from the millionth sun glen lingering on a small journey enjoying this one day.