The Creator gave me life.
I was born from dust and clay.
The Wind dances in my lungs.
From chrysocolla skies
my dreams are chiseled.
From granite clouds,
I was given inner strength.
My life and the land are one.
My faith flows in sandy rivers
traversing painted wastelands,
standing ageless as Bristlecone Pines.
One day,
my tangible existence will expire.
But I will forever roam
landscapes of beauty.
Chrysocolla = blue, bluish green in color – what a beautiful word. I had to look it up. If only we could always see the beauty around us. If only…
Nice.
Vernon, It’s also the name of a bluish/greenish mineral that sometimes forms within ore bodies. My grandpa used to have a lot of ‘chrysocolla’ samples that he had collected from rock-hounding.
Interesting thoughts.