I feel the ripples of this ocean, spreading to horizon and beyond as Sun’s rays touch my surface. A great trembling occurs and I am torn from my kin as I rise above what was my home. Cold air carries me, racing over sea and desert until I am dropped by the nebulous form I had grown into. Soil and stone loom ever closer until I hit land and shatter, sinking below ground, where I reform and flow, springing forth from ground and now flowing down mountain and through valley, emerging, once more, into the great ocean where I belong.
About the Creator
Philip Gardner
I'm a writer, a poet, a facilitator, a gardener and an ecologist. I like the see the connections between all things, and love to draw in all that has been marginalized in our world; to remember that they too need love.
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Night of the Snowstorm
Tiny snowflakes drifted down quietly from the sky that evening. The man standing there, watching them, had been warned of blizzards that night, but this gentle snowfall seemed tame compared with what he had been imagining. Sam had just arrived to this land, travelling more than 4,000 miles to the west from his old home on another continent.
By Philip Gardner4 years ago in Fiction
Standing While Falling
Quotation from Friedrich Nietzsche "He who wrestles long with monsters should beware lest he himself become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Man is not destroyed by suffering, but by the meaning he makes of it."
By LUCCIAN LAYTH7 days ago in Critique
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