"Kyra," said Papa, "lift this chair." She did. "Now put it back down." Again, she did. "Which was more difficult? The lifting or the putting down?"
"The lifting."
"Right. The lifting. That is our work. That is what we do."
Kyra smiled. And so did Papa.
__________
Ariel shimmered in golden waves, her eyes as sapphires brilliant upon the eastern plains in winter. Kyra smiled, lifting her arms as a single note rising, holding, growing and upon the two, gold and black, love showered, a waterfall of universe smiling.
"The lifting."
"Right. The lifting. That is our work. That is what we do."
Kyra smiled. And so did Papa.
__________
Ariel shimmered in golden waves, her eyes as sapphires brilliant upon the eastern plains in winter. Kyra smiled, lifting her arms as a single note rising, holding, growing and upon the two, gold and black, love showered, a waterfall of universe smiling.
2 comments:
I have not words as grand as would be needed to convey the glorious, overwhelming beauty of image and of words. The second part of this post is ambrosia, one feels as though the mind has been soaked as one reads it, immersed into a pool of literary delight, waves of excitement mingling with a welling of love, pure and simple. A love affair long established, aged, lived, moments have been many, but never was the impact as great as moments found upon these pages, moments such as this passage. Surprising for the rise past mountains to float among the clouds. I admit it, gladly, words are lost, I am reduced to babble, to pounding heart and bright eyes at the sheer, and brilliant, loveliness of this post. Awed, by your loveliness.
So nice to see this post commented upon. Thank you Ms Storm. And for the record, I kinda like your babble. :-)
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