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March 09, 2005
Ghosts in the Machine
...ghost swamp
The hanging moss was a white, ghostly grey, hanging down on a gloom clouded day, creating a bit of hazy sureality.
The water was organic, blackish, opaque. Hidden mystery. Primordial, reptilian swirls of ancient fears and urges. It oozes into life as unexpected illusionary chains, like grey moss tangled around your neck. Part of me wants to wade through it deeply, get a different picture, a different perspective. Wash away the chains holding me teathered to concrete walkways, and take a better shot at it all. The ghosts of dragons lay deep. Most people never even get a glimpse of them. How do you tame what you cannot see? Listen for ghosts whispering.
...Rolling and Tumbling. Swimming free. Swamps feed. Don't gather moss.
(swamp - Wilmington, NC)
Posted by Ocean at March 9, 2005 04:31 PM