Summer 2014

34.

I walk all the way down to the village deserted, on the wildest shore of an island of Achill... It is one of those places where not many come. It feels like walking a memory lane of the past, which you cannot remember and at the same time cannot forget... It is a place where cliffs stands sharp and sea seagulls scream wild. Where sheep doesn't come... This kind of past left behind...

I watch the waves splashing champagne, which you not allowed to drink. Crystal tears starts dripping when I put my cheek onto flat stone and become subtle enough to channel its strength... I close my eyes and imagine I am a bird flying over the ocean and mountains, sending blessings to all in rain drops, drawing rainbows within... I get the sense of all things so ancient, forever embedded into these rocks, this land, those waves... where the present and the future are the favours of the past...

Starts raining and I have nowhere to hide. I feel so alone, so I cry, feeling the past sliding like silk through my fingers, through the vision of the third eye... My brave Soul enters the territory of unease to un ease that voice which calls for desire to dream myself into living, which I walked towards slowly every single lifetime that was granted to me; carrying water all the way up to this village to keep humanity in us alive and to light the road towards belonging to the ancient Earth- our past...

 

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I am blessed with deeper introduction to my senses today. I am blessed with an understanding of my inheritance. And I decide to walk this road all the way up till the end. The deepest tranquillity sets on the morning of continuing wonder...

 

(But my intentions weren't enough. Some all the ways till the end meant to be walked holding somebody's hand... So next time...) 

 

Achill . Briga Saulė, 2014

Achill. Briga Saulė, 2014

by Brigita Stasun