Theroy What is it that makes up a life? Boxes scattered across the wall holding pieces of memory. Dust coated and broken wine bottles, windows, mirrors into the past. A music box whispers a dance, a kiss, promises long forgotten. Weathered roses and thread bare velvet dream of youth under yellowed lines. Outside the wind sings to the sunset the beauty of dawn and creation and birth. Twilight echoes the passion of day, reflecting the power of passing. The darkness speaks a language its own, best left for dreamers to decipher. Rejoicing we again greet the dawn as dreamers let slip Night's hidden lessons. Dust coated memories scattered 'cross walls. In light and in darkness, Passage of Time. The remembered, forgotten and the Beauty of action strung through it all. It is this that makes up a life. Rhea Robin Jan. 2010 |