Nicole Page-Smith
Consciousness is a progression
Green bark enveloped her face and her hair grew green. Dank green roots and trees grew in the water. Red roots all tangled started sprouting and crawling out of the side of the river and travelled along the river weaving their way like long hair matted and muddy around other pathways and tracks into the forest. Universes and universities in a way had enmeshed manuscripts had them observed and flew them with the stars out to somewhere else. Planets were in the understanding and trees were made of oak shelves for the worth. Curling around pages thought of other ideas and Mother Nature had communicated Daphne's long journey. Green was the laurel and the leaf. Guided by the night, watery gods felt the music of piano wooded keys and notes tap felt and flow. You felt the timbre meet the Tiber and flowing notes with reeds of music flutes and woodwind blow. Blowing through the streets of Rome through temples and capitals, columns encrusted with leaves and walked with the cats. Rome, cats, meowing, walking, strolling on by.
Cats meowing, cats purring, Rome is the place for cats. In the forest cats wander. Cats, cats and trees, cats love climbing trees. In the forest I walked and have leaves drop on the ground, walking through big leaves ankle deep with leaves, I walk and become. Becoming is like the becoming the leaves of Daphne. A becoming. Leaves, leaves blow along the pathway. Leaves become stars and leaves become trees, they fall. Falling stars like falling rain fall, meteorites are a memory and memories of stars are Universes away in thinking. Thinking of stars is a tree sort of thing for trees to think. Contemplating the forest leaves fall. To the bottom of the sea branches forward and Daphne is as red as coral branches, a Christian indication of the heart of Christ. Christ was born to be Crucified and the blood of Christ is our memory. Daphne branches out, becomes leaf and green with evergreens forever green. Green, I find myself in a sacred forest and drive through with leaves scattering, sticking to the windscreen with memory of the watery river. Coral of sea and memories of the forests by the sea, going into forests, green in the knowing of the smell of trees. Forests turn to stone, petrified. Petrified forests turn to marble and we drift off with the stars, the moon and the night, listening to music, driving, feeling, being and become cathedral with the trees. Wooded cathedrals with stone figures of Christ, cathedrals in the knowing of trees, an ecstasy, may the Holy Spirit be with you blowing with the leaves of trees in the wind, entering another church.
Lined with the dove of the Holy Spirit, churches of marble are of the white close to God. Marble is stone. White marble is like white doves and you can imagine the inside of mountains were the sea, once. White was the depth of the sea and would have been underwater. The milky substance of white stone, marble was once the sea floor and why did the waters recede to provide all the lands, there were probably meteorite showers falling down like rain. When the polar caps freeze over again we will have only just come out of the ice age. Lost treasures and islands gone are probaby still underwater and modern cities. We will lose time and light, we are losing consciousness. Consciousness is a progression.
