The noise made by the seeds of time.

A thick grey mist shrouds the world in a silken blanket, and all is still.  In the distance a yellow hue hangs on the horizon seeping gradually into the grey. I stand alone, listening. On the cusp of hearing there is a gentle crack, followed by another. Slowly the cracks merge together and make a small wave of sound which grows steadily into a wall. The sound is coming towards me and I stand firm, not able to move, ready to confront whatever it may be….

Yep, I’m waxing lyrical and using metaphor to say that I may well be back after a bit of a lull!! New work starting soon.

 

I love to read your comments, thank you.