With the Passing of Time


Posted on: June 5, 2009

© f 1.2; click image for original picture

Amethyst blossoms in clear glass vases. Delicate petals curl inward, and I want to touch the velvet skin, feel the softness beneath my fingers.

It is simple and beautiful, unadorned save for a single green leaf, yet one cannot help but be drawn to it; elegant and understated.

I wish it still was rooted in the soil, could still stretch beneath the sun and bend against the wind. In this glass its life is all but over, its beauty soon fading.

We are opposites. My roots do not save me, do not sustain me. I need to pull myself free, for only in my glass can I truly live. But I’d rather be the flower, ephemeral yet forever lasting in our sight. It will be missed when the last of its bloom slips away.

© 2009 With the Passing of Time


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Willingness to join soil, sound, hands; memory follows me ~ Viggo Mortensen
June 2009
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Daily words come from Merriam-Webster's word of the day. All rambling comes from my head.


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© 2008 - 2009 With the Passing of Time. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to With the Passing of Time with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
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