It starts with lightning far out at sea. Forks dancing along the offing, never getting any closer or further away. There is never thunder, only the clanking of boats in a harbour. Maybe it is more of a calling than warning. A start of an unimagined path leading to a treasury of words long forgotten. In the dark water, reflections of muzzles fall from the night sky and swim like daisy chains, arcing the moorings. Bells emanate from an old, stained, teacup. One which never fills or empties, chiming only to reveal the wetness of water. It starts with lightning far out at sea. Forks dancing along the offing, never getting any closer or further away.
“Maybe it is more of a calling than warning.” – this line is haunting, profound, and makes me believe that there’s more to this than meets the eye. Love the image and the descriptive words that frame its raw beauty. Lovely writing, Davy. 🙂
Thank you for your kind words, Terveen, and I am glad you enjoyed the writing. When I wrote this I was contemplating how life flows and where we fit in with into the whole existence piece. What if everything had always been there?
“Maybe it is more of a calling than warning.” – this line is haunting, profound, and makes me believe that there’s more to this than meets the eye. Love the image and the descriptive words that frame its raw beauty. Lovely writing, Davy. 🙂
Thank you for your kind words, Terveen, and I am glad you enjoyed the writing. When I wrote this I was contemplating how life flows and where we fit in with into the whole existence piece. What if everything had always been there?