June 15, 2006

Shape Shifting

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Sands shifting, sifting, through time, it moves through my fingers it moves, through space, it sifts and changes. Never remaining the same. Shapeshifting.

Shadows moving sifting across the plain. Mirages form and disappear. They come and they go. Who are they these shadows, that pass in front of our watching eyes. They are not from this world, and yet they are telling us of a story. Of time, of time that is not familiar to us. We are sifting, shifting, we are changing, here we are now…

Atop the mesa cliff, I feel not a breeze, but I see the black one floating on the current. I see the lift that pulls him toward me, closer, shifting and gliding across the air, he is getting closer and I feel his power.

With a bold whoosh, he is over and past me, flying to the back side of the mesa that holds me up in the air. Blocked from the southern winds I hear the air swimming through the canyon floor. Pulling with it the shadows that cling to the mesa faces and canyon floor. Shifting, more swiftly now.

It passes before my eyes. I cannot control the visions any longer, they are pulling me forward, I am becoming larger and shifting down the side of the mesa cliff, I am widening and becoming like that shadow and spreading across the valley floor.

Coming with me is the raven shimmering blue black opals and emeralds, fairly it glows above me and stretches out my form across the sandy shore, shifting the sands become like water passing through the ocean floor, shifting, the sands are shifting and sifting through my hair.

Where is that raven that was there before? Where is that form that once sat on the mesa top. Where are those shadows that I saw from the roof of the canyon. We are all one, shifting sifting through my hair. I feel his mighty power, the eternity of the sand, and my pulse racing toward the canyon floor.

Come with me he calls as he passes through beyond time into substance that holds no meaning but seems real. Just as real as the shadows that I watched passing across the canyon floor. Fluid and shifting, we fly as one.

As I turn to look behind me, I see his shadow passing overhead. Looking before me I see the shadows shifting, sifting across the canyon floor. My hands placed neatly on my thighs, legs crossed in front of me, strong hands, veins raised and pulsing, beating in time with the heat of the sun, light and shadow moving across the canyon floor.

Whoosh! His body leaving, as mine is shifting back to the mesa where I began before. We will meet again, when once more, the sand is shifting.

Visions/Dreams
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