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A land invites, did I never feel loved before. A land invites, to a forever kiss. A land invites, to feel what a mystery keeps secret. In a moment of dark despair I feel loved and cherished. For the land invites to kindness everywhere I see.. In a moment of doubt a stranger’s hand reached…
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When confusion invites to forgive, where do you compromise. How do you give a hand that doesn’t want to be taken. Confusion on who needs forgiveness a lesson only time and experience can tell. Now I’m flying low, no sight on the whole story only cut in a spiral of query of trust. Finding myself…
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The Fox and the Hedgehog, friend out of convenience or left to the mercy of human evolution. As they get fed by the hand and natural instinct becomes a slumbering tune on the background, human intuition loosens strength as we evolve into an industrial image of society. Can we go back to the nature of…
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I forgot reason in your beauty with splintered fragments in strength and vulnerability comes a unknown feeling Ignorant and in good will I’ll praise those feelings, in both heart and mind, and among that thought I’ll handle myself in a manner with drift putting myself on edge. Wondering if this mysterious beauty will tell me…
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A tune sounds like a long forgotten memory. It’s the telling of time, it’s not that I’m afraid. A heartbeat with no rhythm no feeling of loneliness, only a ticking sound. A grime smile sets tone for a friendly reminder of a past smile. A look into the shadow of my own mirror startles my…
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Windy times on the hills of Killary Harbour when the dawn sets on the harbour. The mists covering a clear day on the hills of killary harbour, slumber falls on the valley while the harbours rush comes to an end, and invites to rest. When the nights windy times set tone to a sound. Waiting…
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On the banks of the river Lagan you follow the spirit to the nest of the swan, it gives you a glimpse of the warm nest for new life. It shows you the sparkle of a new day. Never in doubt, never in despair, for life binds the spirit to life’s challenges, for the swan…
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It’s the spear that pierces through illusion, it has only one point and a soft side, it will put words on paper, but as it is a spear, caution is mandatory. For the words will not be erased by the soft side, as power has been given, we hardly think of the influence we have…
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December 2018 ©Elke T.B. Stevens.
Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens 