I heard the crash of the wave as the sea hurled it's passion at an unyielding shore. The river wound it's lazy way resentfully round the barren fields. Back at the mountain source bitter herbs tainted the brackish spring
I cast the first stone and with it my eye upon the vast ocean. I caught sight of the winged omen calling my gaze to the blue horizon.
The waves crashed on and the gravel under my feet began to churn. I felt my heart turn. Sea mist kissed the azure sky and all the islands gave a cry. Love is no more.
Three days have past and the same source trickles in rivulets from its rocky source. The son of love once shone upon a single space of highland turf and there from the barren earth grew a flower.
It sweetened the rills and rickles with its sweet aroma and the faithful sky gave it it's colour; blue. Strong steadfast and true, none could wish for more than a humble flower of such brilliant hue.
As the river takes its name from the valley of its birth, so it kept the colour of its patron flower. The son of love sang his eternal song and encouraged the eager flow through Dale and verdant field.
Down amongst the yield a girl would play. Almost the whole long day. Till the corn dolly lost it's arms and legs and her mother's apron would appear at the edge, poppy red. All curls and gentle kisses the years passed and the river chuckled by as the harvester plied his trade.
Unnoticed in that same cropped grain lay a tiny flower. Fed by the son of love and nurtured by the sparkling blue waters. A playmate it longed for at last came oft to the place in the pasture. one day he picked it up by its sturdy stem and pinned it to his collar.
The streets of any town come alive to the sound of genteel laughter, and tradesmen's banter. But not till the nights grown fresh and the lights go down do we think of the hereafter.
He and she both made their promises then. Made loyal and true by their youth and sealed with a blue cornflower.
Oh hapless youth thou art driven from your lovers breast by that bittersweet desire and eternal unrest. Sought ye to assuage thy thirst by the salt sea of avarice and strife. Thy longing for adventure tore thee from the flower of your life. abandoned hope faded in the coastal clime.
So another wave crashes into my broken heart. I fall under the swell and the last regretful thought is purged from my aching breast by its relentless scourge. All is silent and the stones stop shifting. All that's left is the yearning.
A time of returning. All is lost and yet surely when the mist rises there is the mountain. Revealed in rugged form it's shoulder hides a million penitential miles. I rise and seek the son of love
Falling in weakness the crevasse yawns wide to receive my shameful form. The dawn of creation foresaw it's demise. But still it hoped for more. Until dashed down the harsh ground rises to meet and crush and empty the shell of its husk.
Once more the mist descends and into the cavern pours a merry sound. If laughter would mock at mourning then I describe it not. But joy is clothed in many colours. So I hear the stream e’en in this dark place. Its bright torrent reaches my emptied mouth and I am borne aloft.
Blessed by spring rains and held fast from fickle winds. The original blue flower still sends down its bittersweet roots into granite bedrock. The flock grazes, my hands find a hold and I am at the summit.
My singled eye now gazes. In every delicate petal is the vast sky, rushing river and deep blue sea. Intently I am down on hands and knees. There is no face but yours and in it the years of longing.
Faithful thoughts come thronging.
