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PER MARE PER TERRAM

Chant du monde boréal
Shoormal.
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.

CHRONICLES FROM ARCANIA

Preamble

Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.


Sunday, 14 November 2010

No matter where we look, it's blue

That time in between day and night

With shorter days, catching the sun slide between silk and salt turns out to become a real game of hide-and-seek. And yet, such precious moment allows plenitude in one dominant tone - blue.
Dusky blue.
That's when I love wandering on the very edge of the island. Everything turns a ghost - each rock, ripple, roller and cloud... Even the moon dares not appear until we taste the very reason for crimson. Sand feels like lead under my feet. Each blade of dancing sand dune grass follows my steps. The wind fills my head with ideas, as my hand reaches for each wave.

My sandbridge littered with footprints,

as if an army of dreamers conquered the whole of Arcania... And yet all I can hear is wind, the gentle rhythm in ripples, since rollers sleep in the shoormal. I lost my heart inside the sand and found shelter in-between dunes, where I can run after Titan or Europa.

I once described night as a dame, indigo blue... I caught her grace in half circle... As she watches us from her height, all birds have found their favourite roosts with the exception of a daring flock of greylags that flew around lusher hillsides.

No matter where my eyes turn to, everything was draped inside blue.

On every sand grain and ripple,
I write your name,
Arcania.

2 comments:

  1. Really enjoyed this tour, Nat. Particularly liked the 'sandbridge' images.

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  2. Thank you, Gordon - am glad you enjoyed that journey :-))

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