Monday, May 17, 2010

a poet's homeland

That stream which could be the real Fountain of Eternal Youth. That mountainside half in ominous shadow, half in enchanting sunlight. Those crooked trees where trolls may be hiding. That wild, hidden lake with secrets lurking in its depths. Those magnificent ruins of a thousand years. That enigmatic wishing-well that bends space.

I look through my pictures from my last visit to the enchanted valley and realise that I take the same pictures every time I go there.

I am always faintly surprised that the pictures do not come out blank, or all dark, or with unidentifiable smudges - the way pictures look when people try to photograph supernatural things. Apparently the valley does exist outside my own imagination.

That forceful gravity it exerts on my soul is very, very real. The mysterious black hole of my life.

1 comment:

Aruni RC said...

That never-never land of trolls and Elves, of faded trees and shoadowy glens.
Thank you Pianopoet for another glimpse into that long-lost world. I think it will remind every reader of personal childhood idylls, that elusive grace - a very own Rivendell or Lothlorien, where the mind will walk forever under fading trees while the cold burdens of the 'real' world seems too prosaic to endure anymore.