I sometimes feel a thousand years displaced, an ache for a time, an unimaginable silence. Countless trees blanket hills, a fresh chill shimmering in the air and a life governed by respect and awe for the land from which we came.
A thousand years of lost synergy, a pulse of forgotten heartbeats but a spirit that lives on, ties me back, invisible but strong through time. I wonder if I lived before, a soul jumping ether, dimensions of difference, dimensions of similarity. A pull to a place, a pull to a home, a familiarity with no explanation.
A touch of cold stone, fingers running in damp moss, a suggestion on a breeze, a knowledge in my heart. A sudden snap fit into a space that’s been waiting for me to return for countless moments, stretched like mist into the past.
I feel the souls of thousands. I hear the silent beat and pulse of lives lived simply, yet deeper than our own. Layers of my soul appear, rarely felt, and those layers cry out for stillness, for connection.
And I wander with bare feet and cry back into the mist, and listen with all that I am for an answer.