Bold. Blue. Megalithic.
To think I might have begun as a whispered word on an ancient’s breath,
a droplet in the spray of a neolithic sneeze,
the spatter in a sputtered warning, “Run!”
a
single
snowflake
spit from a cloud,
delivered on an ocean breeze.
How many molecules has it taken,
pressed between frozen pages of time,
to create the storehouse of information I hold,
knowledge
that has the power to drive
a shift from the existing paradigm?
What secrets do I hold, you ask?
What intelligence must I contain?
What wisdom am I willing to share
without whipping up yet another hurricane?
Bold. Blue.
Megalithic, no more.
I fear my sweat and tears may be too late
unless?
unless?
Unless, you finally use wisely
the great knowledge you already possess.
Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner 
Ah. The wisdom of the glaciers. You are their best advocate, Donna. (Funny thing – I check WordPress every day from my phone but your post did not show up. Only when I logged in via my laptop.)
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That is weird for sure. I find sometimes I have to sign in again on my phone. Thanks for stopping by, Susanne. It’s always nice to ‘see’ you 🙂
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I’ve never seen a real iceberg, but in documentaries, their blueness is so pure and clean. Dangerous and deadly yes, but they are also incredibly beautiful.
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They are stunning. Massive on the one hand, and ice cubes in a glass, on the other.
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I especially like this:
a
single
snowflake
spit from a cloud,
delivered on an ocean breeze
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🙂
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What can the earth say besides melting her last icebergs?
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❤
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