A blank page
/
I have been writing so much about transparent living recently - a part of that is sharing our creativity with others even in its most vulnerable form. You have all seen my photography and read my writing and loving rambles. So, now, here is some of my poetry too.
Several years ago I spent a month in the Alps. I will never forget that experience. It was then that I learned that mountains are my sacred place; I left a part of my heart in those heights. I wrote this (and took that photo) there.
Love,
Varya
A blank page
Is a world onto itself
It is a grove of birch trees
Crest clouds embracing jagged peaks
The afternoon sun and the shifting shadows
Flowers through the window panes
Cold concrete in a sea of green
Its is smiles in my direction and a piercing gaze
A blank page
Is a melody of longing
It is the multi tonal mountain wind
The whisper of a muddy river that yearns for blue
The distant laughter of children playing
Marmot whistles, and bluebird chimes
Faint voices in the night
Its is the roar of civilization and the silence of the earth
A blank page
Is a welcome illusion
Grand phrases with little meaning
Knowledge of oneself and others
Simplicity and complexity
The haste of a lover’s whispered words
Minutes, hours, days, and years
- It is Time.
A blank page
Is all I ever wanted.