Each of you
has taken a portion
that I have
and all my heart
some of you
because I see you
starved and needing
but there are days
how much is really left
We laugh… but how much of this rings true??!!
THE MOST SPECTACULAR DAY EVER!!!!
After being convinced Skye was Quadpolar in regards to weather (rain, sleet, snow and sun) because of yesterday we were blown away at being graced with an entire day of sun.
We started our day driving to the furthest west point in Isle of Skye to see a lighthouse at Neist Point. Oh. My. Word. The views were stunning and the threat of life from falling off a cliff high! The butterflies were incorrigible…and the shaky legs… BUT I SWEAR I AM NOT AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!! (Just afraid of coming home one co-worker short!!!)
Then we grabbed lunch and headed off to the Faery Glen where we explored this terrain that can only be described as something from a child’s story book! I left a gift for the faerys and climbed along side a waterfall to see where it led…and got a booter…like 12 times. BUT OH MY GOD IT WAS WORTH IT FOR EVERY MOLECULE OF WATER THAT ENTERED MY SHOES!!
The girls took a climb up a mountain and I opted out due to a weeeeeee discomfort in me foot. (Rest, ice, compress and elevate righty?) fuuuuuuck…. I missed out on the most dramatic view of the day, overlooking the dips and rolls of Skye from up high. Giants left their foot prints. Spectacular.
We made our final destination of Inverness mostly in tact. I mean all our belongings were in tact (ok except for a few spills in our bags) but our scrambled brains not so much from being awake so long.
The cab driver grilled us about our tour guide for tomorrow and often spoke so quickly in Scots we giggled for our lack of ability to keep up. The hostel is fab…can’t go wrong for 26$ a night…and just down the street from a real live Scottish pub where we are Scottish food and drank non-Scottish ale. Oh we have laughed…but I suspect I will not get much writing done on this journey. And that’s ok, still plenty of adventuring to do!!!!
Today we are off to see an old battlefield from 1745, Culloden moor, it is where the last battle on Scottish soil took place and it is a memorial to the clans that were decimated that day . We’ll see some standing stones and hopefully go back in time to find Jamie Fraser (juuuuust kiddin) a castle or two (I know!!!!!), and hopefully find coffee and more ale!!
Ok I gotta go and find brekkie before Ally the tour guide arrives…
I never intended
to go looking for your name
to go searching through the past
In an expired phone book
But there it stood
in black and red
Your picture next to your number
ringing out the sounds we made
from all that time we spent
in one another’s head
and one o’clock won’t come soon enough
the whiskey won’t set in
To make up excuses
for why I’m calling you again
It takes time to make
Yourself a cup of coffee
It takes time
To get from here to there
It takes time
To love again
And despite the cliché
Of it all
It does take time to heal
It takes time
To form just the right words
To write a book
To paint your masterpiece
It all takes time
It’s a bit of a conundrum
Thinking you have
All this time
But running out of it
Impatiently tapping your foot
Through a Starbucks line up
Or the traffic
On your way to work
Frustrated with your hearts
Slowness to catching on
And for the pain it feels
When it finally does
We speak rashly
Blurting nonsensical ramblings
Seeming rather insane
But you’re taking the time
To say them
They must mean…something
And all the art
It all took…
View original post 49 more words
After Magritte: L’Empire des Lumieres 1954
The past is the antithesis of burglary. Imagine
a house in darkness. Or to be more precise,
imagine darkness in a house. Something akin
to that Magritte where the light is held
at tree’s length by a clutch of tungsten bulbs.
The looming woods proofed with shadow thicker than tar.
In the House of the Past we move backwards
from room to room, forever closing doors
on ourselves, always closing doors.
In each room, we leave some of those little trinkets
we love most, that the house is stealing from us.
Because we cherish them, web abandon them
to the furniture of strangers. Whenever we go
the doors swing shut behind us without a sound
and the dust drifts up into the ceiling like smoke.
Oh there io much we would love to hold on to,
but so little room. If only we could…
View original post 88 more words
There was something special
About how the sunlight
Fell on her hair
How his hand felt in hers
Something he was afraid to see
Something she was afraid to trust
So they both held back their all
And shrivelled to dust