The Whispering Wall

The corridors are long, like the days with the same old routine, or the wait for a visit from a loved one. The stairs creak like rickety bridges. Radio and television are daytime friends, which muffle the sound of the hourglass trickling, and the presence of the spectre lurking in the corners of... Sign in to see full entry.

Just under the summit, a small part of the slope curves inwards, slightly indented and triangular in shape, while the rest of the hill reaches around it like an amphitheatre. A shape formed by nature's will and revered for its sacredness, it is left entirely to itself. Untouched over the long... Sign in to see full entry.

Right in the middle Of each rising hill, A tree stands guard, Like a tall dark statue Among vines in the vineyard. The currents of the wind Weave its twirling branches Into temple arches, Through which its spirit courses Spreading out like a blanket of mist. Its roots reach into the earth, And are... Sign in to see full entry.

A small grey road Winds through this valley. Its green slopes curve strongly In the shape of a lion Resting quietly. The breath of the Ages Is huddled in the shadows Under the stems of each vine, And in the spots of chill Under the arches of trees By the water's edge. This breath, like unseen liquid... Sign in to see full entry.

One April morning, the young farmer Went up the winding road With his horse and cart, Ready to apply all he had learned. As he looked upward At the steepest hillside, He could see the spring emerging, Like the wave of an ocean Rising over the summit, And turning everything green. It was as though... Sign in to see full entry.

Little blotches of thought Spread themselves in the mind, Like ink lines on a map Through the inner landscape. There is a path I have created With careful scultping Of inspiring thoughts. They shine like lanterns On the road as they comfort, Raising my spirits Like a bird's wing, As peace slowly... Sign in to see full entry.

Over the centuries, Songs sung in this valley Were caught in the grass Where they broke into pieces Like the flow of a river divided By the rocks and stones beneath. Bits of tune were scattered Like patches of shadow Rippling across a hill. But when the wind Stands still and holds its breath,... Sign in to see full entry.

Like the core of a flame, Whose presence rises Now and again, A surge of energy, Whose sudden emergence Refreshes the senses, A breeze blowing Through an old wooden house, Stirring the dust. Little by little, It expands the mind, By stretching past the pinpoints of words, The level of energy rising,... Sign in to see full entry.

At the foot of the mountain, You can hear the voice of the bird Which lies dead and buried Under the old oak tree. Its voice soars stronger Than the rays of the sun. If you sit under the twirling branches, You'll here its tune sift through the leaves, And break into pieces, Drifting into the shadow,... Sign in to see full entry.

There comes the dreaded question, Always the same one Which keeps turning up. It hits the one chord Of my life harp Which lies dead And covered with moss. There comes no sound, But the hollow echo Of the gaping cavern And the rocks under the ground. Sign in to see full entry.