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No Prancing For Ponies..

As all-seeing, all-hearing Helios takes his “fire-darting steeds” deep into Oceanus’s open arms, in our slumber, we question not his return.
The firmament revealeth its fiery gems and we seek its worth, not wondering how to travel distance and time, through slumber, and awaken unto another day.
We sit and breathe in each heavenly body, innocent of it’s age , its journey , its permanence or demise, and linger on into the night.
The moon rabbit feeds the horses 
–  hoping to go unnoticed,
they loose their wings,
scurry off into a tour bus, but
are caught.
And thus we are returnéd unto another segment of that plotted path, within a macro geography of Time and Space, unaware of such escapades.
Helios is quite strict in running operations – no prancing for ponies (yet).

 

 


(© originally published elsewhere, January 25 – 2018, shortly after midnight)

Helius the Sun - detail on a red figure style crater-vase

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

photo credits: DREA (www.D-Rea.com)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  • I did not take either photograph.  For photo credits, please click on each picture
    (if the images do not open to a separate linked page, here are the photo credits for both:
    1 – Helius the Sun | photo source : http://www.theoi.com/Titan/Helios.html
    2 – photo credits: DREA (www.D-Rea.com)
    – Red Eagle Appaloosa

 

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Solo

.. Sol o

 

 

 

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(I shall now leave some superfluous accompaniment.. I say this even though I love the musical portion  belowShakti dearly)

 

 

 

 

Solo

 

 

a solo
is what it is
does what it does
is a multiple of one
is multiple or one
it’s multinudenous
alone
it is none (of the above)

 

 

 

 

( the mouth of a river, a star, an East/West fusion..  an “ancient child’s” solo – I leave you with the sound of Shakti to accompany its warm innocence)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.. Sol o

 

 

Pendular space
recycled cycles of time that bends
as we circle (our) emotive states of concentric consciousness (consciousnesses)
is ever moving.
East becomes West, West becomes East, but what of it?

That revolving yet ever changing river that is our existence
(that is our existance?) seems to pay little attention to detail.

 

 

 

 

(author’s note: the “solo” originally was only meant to be the photographic slideshow above,
but as always I’m easily sidetracked – thank you for your indulgence)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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