Skipping Through Time

There are echoes.

What is changing?

Cars for horses.
Buildings tall and straight-edged
for rounded stone,
wood or thatch.
Coffee and oranges
for what could be made
or picked from the earth.
The sound and sight
of the screen for
the touch of a hand
or a face.

But there are echoes.

A mother’s kiss,
the lovers’ tryst,
the brotherhood of war,
the sisterhood of weaving,

the call of a wren,
the stamp of a deer,
the comet blazing,

things part of the human story,
a fixed
axis of centre
as all else changes.

There are echoes
of the past
in the present

and echoes
of the present
in the past.

What will be true
in the future?

Life, Death, Love.

As always,
as always.

I recently have felt a sense of timelessness, not sure where or when I am. This is strengthened by watching Outlander and reading Boudica, I think.

I should also say I mean ‘brotherhood’ and ‘sisterhood’ in terms of masculine and feminine energy. Women can make war and men can weave, I realise.

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