The most unfathomed dimension is that which we hide within the depths of self.
I grasp an inner fire in fists of thought. Pain is pleasure past the barriers of reason. Bearing my soul's tangled roots, I fling it into a darkness where nothing loved is lost. Spirit hawk-- winged storm of light-- purest expresion of my longing, you pierce all common dreams. Shadows part in the dissolution of my own conceits. In a place beyond expectation, where I've ever been, I am home again.
The captivating music of birds and the enchanting beauty of roses have, each in their own right, inspired people around the world for as long as anyone can remember. How the two combine with the challenges faced by a struggling writer in Georgia to c
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So nice to see this one excellent imagery again..
Lady Peg