A guitar gently breaks into my thoughts and fastens itself onto my steady unhurried heartbeat. I am pulled toward thoughts of clouds drifting on the horizon first grey, then orange, then blood red. Slowly slowly pink then white visions of new breaths over the cabin almost warming the atmosphere. Big Sur continues the journey, with the guitars strumming the tops of the pines before gliding down toward the rocks being performed by the ocean. The fog comes in with siren voices in Night Whispers and the cool ocean breezes call for heavy jackets and a fire on the shore. I turn back toward the path to the cabin and light the Heathen Candle that completes my mediation with a peaceful thought. The Alps
Saturday, February 21, 2009
The Alps – Morning Light
A guitar gently breaks into my thoughts and fastens itself onto my steady unhurried heartbeat. I am pulled toward thoughts of clouds drifting on the horizon first grey, then orange, then blood red. Slowly slowly pink then white visions of new breaths over the cabin almost warming the atmosphere. Big Sur continues the journey, with the guitars strumming the tops of the pines before gliding down toward the rocks being performed by the ocean. The fog comes in with siren voices in Night Whispers and the cool ocean breezes call for heavy jackets and a fire on the shore. I turn back toward the path to the cabin and light the Heathen Candle that completes my mediation with a peaceful thought. The Alps
