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In the Fields of Lost Stories

A frigid surface blanketed by snow, headstones shimmer in the light, glistening marble and granite are icy shadows sporting lost names. Herein lay stories of the past, heroes, beggars, rich and poor alike, as the ground knows no difference between them, it makes for a quiet rest. Wrapped roots entwine around casket chambers; sarcophagi nestled near earth’s center. Life’s roads end meets Gaia’s womb once again; etheric stories no longer read aloud. Though alas, listen to the silence! Listen long enough and you can hear those stories, whispered among the slumbering dreamers, for nothing ever really dies; it simply changes. I walk here to learn as, all life speaks. In the air, the very essence of the earth and the trees; echoes from the ground reverberate within the winter winds; the silence has much to say.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 3/7/2021 10:56:00 AM
Well said, and scientists now flock to prove your are wright right! Aloha! Rico
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Date: 3/7/2021 7:25:00 AM
My dear philosopher friend, you think deep and write deep, what does it matter who or what we are, we all nourish mother earth's ground and feed the silent essence of this earth, for as you say it has much to tell us. Hugs and blessings,s MLK Jennifer.
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Date: 3/7/2021 6:18:00 AM
This is a stirring poem ML. I love ..."for nothing ever really dies; it simply changes." Their stories are alive. Linda
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Date: 3/7/2021 5:18:00 AM
All life speaks of the lost stories--wonderful creative spirits flow through your words.
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Date: 3/7/2021 3:46:00 AM
Straight to my FAV list and I mean immediately. Wow!
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