There is something here about a living being pressing against something that has no life, giving it its beauty.
I can’t see clearly. I’m reaching into the haze and waving my hand around, touching here and there. Some words are asking to be expressed … but I don’t know what those words are.
I’m waiting. Perhaps the words will come now, perhaps not. If it’s a “No” I guess this will be a very short post.
The branches entwine. They have to love each other, to wrap around, to feel each other’s warmth. They are brothers and sisters in their essence as a tree.
The branches climb. They have to seek something above. It’s magnetic. They’re going someplace … together. It’s important that they get there.
The branches adhere to the brick. It’s the only way they can get where they’re going. There has to be a union of life and the lifeless.
The branches lead to the blossoms. A mysterious fragrance beckons, that of the lilac. The scent is intoxicating, shocking even. Such beauty actually exists.
The street is not remembered
The city is Ghent
Life lives here
2 thoughts on “Compelled”
Beautiful words! life lives here. I am sure this is the feeling I have coming and going from the car park at work and seeing my favourite tree! I actually say good morning tree! I love this. thank you as always for your wise words.
Thank you, Donna. It’s wonderful to say good morning … everywhere.