“All water is holy water.” ― Rajiv Joseph There are five layers. What is in front of my eyes; this pool. What is floating on the surface; these leaves. What is reflected in the pool; some trees. What is lurking underneath; the deep. What is over my head; . . .
Today some portraits, illuminating the mystery of endings. Leaves, lives, moments. Mysteries, Yes Truly, we live with mysteries too marvellous to be understood. How grass can be nourishing in the mouths of the lambs. How rivers and stone are forever in . . .
Do you share a memory of lying under trees, watching the light flicker through the leaves? Did you throw yourself onto the grass and stare into the sky? Did you roll in leaves and kick them down the path on the way home from school, or half close your eyes to see faeries . . .
While I am standing beneath this Sycamore, besotted with its golden glow, leaves are passing away in front of my eyes. A little death is taking place as each one turns, decays and falls. Autumn and it's peaceful slowing brings the inevitable truth to mind. The wrinkling up of my smily . . .