Sand (Object writing)
I will explain the significance of the relation with sand when I am done with the song that started when I realized my topic today. Right now I am pressed for time and really want to get my object writing in before I have to leave to go back to work. I don't know when the song will be done though. It may not be today. Something about this one is different. It is flowing but not as the others did. I feel a deep realization with this one. I just haven't quit gotten it yet. Maybe it will come and then the gates will open again. Until then here today's writing.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Soft and yet still so hard. Sand is all around. Nothing ever staying in one place. Ever moving swirling in a constant state of flux. As it moves around I see the many patterns it creates. The shear number of them is enough to boggle the mind. You cannot truly count them. For it has no limit.
Sand underfoot as I walk along in the dessert terrain. Shifting under my feet. Lending to a sense of instability and insecurity. But somehow I always seem to stay upright and moving forward. As I walk along and feel my foot steps shift to the side and the back I realize that my steps never seem to go as I expect. The sand has to have it's say as well. If I try to fight sands influence, surely I will fall. I have to trust it's nature, the soft solid duality. If I cannot, it will humble me.
It's color so basic but yet the brown is also so different. Like unlike anything I have seen. Or maybe I have, I just never cared to notice. All around it permeates the air I breath making it's way into me. Becoming a part of me whether I want it to or not. In this I have no control. I simply have to except it and keep moving. If I try to fight it surely I will choke on it. Surely it will win.
As the wind picks it up and batters it against my skin I feel the abrasive nature of it. Rubbing my skin as if trying to cleanse me of some kind of stain I am wearing. Or maybe I am seeing to much into something so natural. Which ever the case I have come to accept it and enjoy the sensation of being rubbed raw and left bare. It serves to bring a sense of cleanliness. A sense of refreshment. But if left alone it can dig it's way into you and remind you it is still something hard and not to be taken lightly.
As you hold it in your hand you feel the soft texture of it rubbing it in your hands. But still so very ruff. Something so small, how can it have so much power.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Funny I think I just understood what I was still trying to learn. But I will cover that in part two. Like I said may not be up today, but keep your eyes peeled. I think this is going to be a good one.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Soft and yet still so hard. Sand is all around. Nothing ever staying in one place. Ever moving swirling in a constant state of flux. As it moves around I see the many patterns it creates. The shear number of them is enough to boggle the mind. You cannot truly count them. For it has no limit.
Sand underfoot as I walk along in the dessert terrain. Shifting under my feet. Lending to a sense of instability and insecurity. But somehow I always seem to stay upright and moving forward. As I walk along and feel my foot steps shift to the side and the back I realize that my steps never seem to go as I expect. The sand has to have it's say as well. If I try to fight sands influence, surely I will fall. I have to trust it's nature, the soft solid duality. If I cannot, it will humble me.
It's color so basic but yet the brown is also so different. Like unlike anything I have seen. Or maybe I have, I just never cared to notice. All around it permeates the air I breath making it's way into me. Becoming a part of me whether I want it to or not. In this I have no control. I simply have to except it and keep moving. If I try to fight it surely I will choke on it. Surely it will win.
As the wind picks it up and batters it against my skin I feel the abrasive nature of it. Rubbing my skin as if trying to cleanse me of some kind of stain I am wearing. Or maybe I am seeing to much into something so natural. Which ever the case I have come to accept it and enjoy the sensation of being rubbed raw and left bare. It serves to bring a sense of cleanliness. A sense of refreshment. But if left alone it can dig it's way into you and remind you it is still something hard and not to be taken lightly.
As you hold it in your hand you feel the soft texture of it rubbing it in your hands. But still so very ruff. Something so small, how can it have so much power.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Funny I think I just understood what I was still trying to learn. But I will cover that in part two. Like I said may not be up today, but keep your eyes peeled. I think this is going to be a good one.