spiritstuff
And then the wind picked up, once, twice, thrice, each time stronger and longer and I felt that we should go before the voice of the place was raised to press the point.
We left, and the journey took no time at all. The world still turned around the place that we left. We were escorted on our way out by a bird of fire I had not seen before on the island, do not expect to again. We entered the wood, emerged again, departed toward the car. Quietly. To keep respect.
spiritstuff
Precious mineral or long-dead beetle chitin, I couldn't tell. Onward, always onward, until the circle be complete. We had to tread very close to the red stone and it felt like nearing sacrelige. But that was the path, such as it was.
Afterward, we rested. I washed hands and face and poured some of my little remaining water into the rocks outside the red stone, in offering. We waited, we rested. The world turned here, but time did not pass.
spiritstuff
This was the axis mundi, this was sacred space, this was part of something outside the rest of the island. The glyphs were carved here minutes or millennia ago, ancient peoples working with chisel land rock.
There was a path around it, a circumnavigation just outside the red stone. The air did not move. We started the circuit. We could not go back, once we started. We had to see completion.
We stopped sometimes to stare. I found a small irridescent blue spot in the dirt.
spiritstuff
We entered a wood of trees so old that the greenery looked out of place. New life wasn't right here, this was a place of ages. We ducked under branches, clambered over lava rock, moved through the dead trees and through the silence. I spoke and regretted the sound. Even whispers were too loud.
So we walked through the days and years and at last emerged from the wood into scrubland, like passing through the exit of a hedge maze, a labyrinth. The trail beckoned yet.
spiritstuff
So today we went north. Because yesterday we went south and the roads got worrisome. So we went north, and found a place. The beach was coral and lava, but that wasn't the destination. We were trying to find the petroglyphs.
We found a lot more.
The path was half-hidden, and almost immediately veered away into half a trail - just enough to follow, never enough to be sure where it was going. The signs that weren't missing were not maintained.
The dress seller saw that I was the one browsing and made sure to say that it was totally fine for guys to wear the garments she was selling too, which was pretty great. n..n
Island video
Jumping silvery fish by the seawall
http://moby.to/52mgsu
Pastiche
My favorite writer and the one I wish I could imitate in my own prose, is Zelazny. I would not copy his voice, but I want to be able to evoke thoughts in paper as well as he does. The way he works in words...
But there is something delicate, beautiful, victimized, helpless, between the pages of The Moment Of The Storm and Comes Now The Power. I am greatly moved within, but have not the words to say how. I have seen but cannot name the vision.
The haze in the sky has the right of it.
Rare coastal dragoness, often found by sunny sea cliffs. Nonbinary but fairly femme-leaning. If you're under 18 don't follow.