We are star

Nicole Page-Smith, photograph

We are star

Swallows and flying, flying. Darting with the insects. Spring brings the swallows, swallows flying. Spring and trees but the swallows like a rocky nook. Swallows flying, flying. Every spring brings with it, new life and we are reminded of the life of Christ. Swallows flying to herald the new spring. We live the life of Christ and swallows fly. Flying we dart around like swallows in spring. The renewal of Spring.

We are the light of Christ, flying and flying through life we are the spirit. Swallows seem to speak of the warmth of Christ as though Christ was amongst us in the warm days of the new Spring. We lead the life of Christ like the swallows and return every year for the warm air and the insects, not a Last Supper but a Passover and the Resurrection of Christ. Flying our life connects us by our heart to the Holy Spirit and god, we lead the life of Christ like the swallows. Darting around as they catch the insects in the warm air could be seen as a similar connection to god. We live the life of Christ and in Christ's light.

Light and the life of light is a Christian understanding of the stars. The stars are our light. The mystical pathway is in the sky. All is written, our pathway suggests the curve, the curve of Earth and if you think of all that is in the lightness of day then this will tell you our future. Our future is in the light of day. Stars write the way to night and the curve of night holds the darkness. Our human future is one.

One light is one god and one world. One star leads the way. We see our world in anticipation of light but all we see is Earth from an earthly perspective our world does not look similar from elsewhere in the one place god calls home, the Sun. God is the Sun like Jesus is the son of god and only has a human form for Christian human beings or the devil for everybody else. If our future was so evil, we could no longer live, in anticipation of god then, we would only see the devil. The future of our planet is not anything Earth would not have been without human beings. We are the model for all of the need of god and our future is as doomed as our death but has a forward thinking or a life from our death in a Christian way. We will be born to die. Mortal existence knows no immortality. The stars we see are in anticipation of the doomed existence of Earth or a suspension of our time as we are fated to die, so is Earth. We were not born to see the light. However, the light of god is our spiritual need. God gave us our mortality in the garden of Christ. Christ in the garden of our heart is too painful as we live the life of Christ. If we only knew we were not to see the light. Stars tell us so. 

We are star.

 

 

The Spring of a new day

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

The Spring of a new day

If you think of flight and birds flying towards the light, swallows repeatedly circling to catch the insects, we are possibly realising the Christian association with ascension, Resurrection and the new born Spring. Rain and evening bring the insects about, swallows flying. Warmer weather and the swallows. Although our purpose is earthly bound and we do not suffer the Passover, we are of the spirit of Christ. We are taught of flight with birds but swallows tell of the heart.

Seeing swallows at certain migratory times of the year, solitary or in pairs takes you to a Christian need of the self. You feel Spring takes you to the light. We are the light of Christ and Christ is our blood. We are the blood of Christ as swallows have you know, flying. Birds flying and darting around the insects every Spring and you wonder how they could survive migrating from another place but they appear almost magically from somewhere else, to remind you of Christ and ascension, our Resurrection. Swallows welcome the coming of Spring and herald the new fair day. Welcome swallow to my Spring.  

Swallows flying. You could imagine if you were a swallow flying and darting around to catch the insects, they look all too human. Spring is the time to let go of all the past winter blues and resurrect the new. You feel your life is like a flight through a life similar to swallows flying, darting around and catching the insects at dusk or after Spring rain. Spring and all the flowers and trees back into bloom and an awakening of new life. Sky and the light, brings, stormy weather. The unsettling of Spring. We fly off with the swallows and as a swallow, dart about the insects. Spring swallows and temperate rain, welcome the warmer weather of Spring. The faithful joy of the new Spring. 

Flying with the swallows, Spring is heralded along with the warmer weather, swallows nominate the Spring. Warm weather and the birds have you fly along with them mentally in anticipation of light and longer days. The swallows seem to glide on the air pockets with their tail as a guide to chop and dart, quickly, moving freely, one way or another. The new days are announced and Spring is on its way. Swallows mate for life often returning to their old nest. Will the summer be a good spring? The Spring of a new day.

 

One is always reminded of Christ

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

One is always reminded of Christ

Birds flying through the air. God flies with the wind and the spirit wind is god. The birds ascend to the treetops flying towards the last light in the clouds and chirp loudly to sleep. The descension of sleep. Night descends the earth and we await another day. Birds fly and flying in their dreams they sleep and dream of flight, the ascension of the birds.

Birds, fly.

Flying, birds fly. Darting about birds fly, the swallows fly about in pairs. Flying, darting and swooping, their forked tail looking majestic while their black body describes an all too human need. One is always reminded of Christ.

 

A bird, flies through

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs 

A bird, flies through

Fly through. God flying, fly with the birds, flying. The light captures the light of the clouds as the wind dies down. They drift, drifting with the clouds, the wind flies through as with god. God flying. Clouds, angels and the wind. The wind flying and whistling by. The wind is the light, the light of god, blowing, the wind, the heavens with the clouds, in the sky, blow.

Light in the clouds and the sky, daytime. The light reflects in the clouds. Light, feathers and birds. The wind of birds flying by, they make a sound of the spirit, the spirit in the wind. Birds flying.

Birds flyings in the clouds. To fly through the clouds like a bird would be similar to the experience of the light in the clouds, needed or the spirit descending unto you. The relationship god needs you to have with the clouds is their light. Clouds drifting with the light, drift like the birds gliding on pockets of wind. Rose windows and churches could describe the light and the spirits ascension, Christ's relationship with heaven, through no greater reflection. Birds flying through the light are like the spirit of Christ and flight, our short journey on earth. Clouds drifting are blown away with the wind. A bird, flies through.

 

God and the wind, fly

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

God and the wind, fly

Wind oh windy, trees, the leaves shine and face upwards, oh windy, windy, tree. Thrashing in a gale, trees blow around and knock against the house. The doors blow open and then slam shut and you feel glad to be inside. Abandoned on the lonely, windy, island, birds call their home, trees and forests tend too flourish. Vines and creepers crawling over abandoned buildings, taking all back to nature, the trees are oblivious and keep blowing in the wind. Trees, trees and the birds, nature, trees being left for the birds and wind as though people did not ever exist for them. Birds tell you so.

Walking in the forest, the birds, flitter through and you catch glimpses of their wings in the light. The odd feather drops to the forest floor. Ancient is the forest and you are made to wonder what existed before nature, trees and animals, the wind rushes through.

Flying, flying with the birds, your wings catch the light, are you a bird? God and the wind, fly.

 

Trees and the wind

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

Trees and the wind

Light, sunshine and the trees,

blow around in the wind.

Blowing a gale, they blow,

trees, creaking, in the wind.

The sunshine of trees, the noise of trees in the wind, and walking in forests takes you to the birds. The birds, chirp and humour the ghosts. Historic trees like their companions and the sunshine, could tell more of the light. The sunshine has shone down for centuries on trees and the companions of trees, the forest with all its inhabitants. Trees tower and continue upwards into the light while sunshine filters down to the ground.

We travel forward and trees branch out. Past the tree branches is the sky and flying off skyward with the birds in our mind, we fly. Trees grow branches, leaves, sometimes flowers and the petals fall. Falling with the blossom and petals scattering, the ground, we think of times when bare limbed trees blew around in winter breezes and windy gales. Blowing around in the wind, blossom, scatters onto the ground. The leaves grow. Fruit and the apples, appear while birds seem jubilant and fly through. The seasons come winter or autumn, spring to summer bring light into the garden and a forest of trees. Trees and the wind.

 

Are we forest in the trees?

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

Are we forest in the trees?

Trees grow. They grow into the house and the church could tell you so. Branches, branch out, grow, grow through, growing, fly with the birds, extended with the blossom. The blossom falling to the ground, scatters and trees and new shoots, travel along. Eventually overgrown trees need tending and tending need to grow. Forests occur as the result of trees.

Forests of trees. Trees, once were forest with the birds. Light filters through. Trees. Trees with snaky thoughts of sunning in sunspots, hibernating in rainforests.

Snakes, snake around your mind slithering off from their sunny spots come Spring, back into the forest. The light of summer. Your hair goes into Rastafarian, snaky, dreadlocks like a Medusa. Tread carefully through the forest and loudly. Lizards scurry and the birds chirp, flying away. The trees wake up from their winter sleep and move around in the wind. Light and sun, peers, through and as though sprites of the night have passed by seem to rattle and moan, groaning of another night, in the daylight. Medusa would not know such a snaky address but ghosts travel through as though knowing another history or place. Are we forest in the trees?