Thursday, February 22, 2007

Memory of something you'll find out yourself

Honestly, I could feel the past, and recognize places never seens before. The temperature, humidity and intensity of light. The sound of the landscape, it was memory upon which I'm built. It called and called, and made me see. Running fast, through the ancestral legacy, I saw the herds of the fathers, remembered the shadows of the trees on their faces. And the smell of dust, and the grains of soil, and the thirst of blood, and the beauty of the bodies. You can feel it, you do can; there's an image deep in the mind, deep in the flesh, there's a memory of land, there's a memory of life. Not forgotten, not yet, still there. Still there, and there only, the search settles, and one instict after another come and ask for satisfaction. Images flash in your mind, awaken; you feel inside the bodies and the minds. You just remember and see, yes you do see, you do feel, you do remember. You're clashed between the landscape and your expanding memory.
There is a sense, for the emptiness of scope. Is that you forgot that you still remember.


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