Flash ∑ back + Point + Light

Featuring frequently found feathers and fractures of flashbacks from forgotten factualities

Some of this summer’s found feathers (with a couple of other finds added) Photo by N.E.

Many a hike was had this past summer with dearest Deborah. While we thoroughly enjoyed clambering about cities, the days spent wandering in the wilderness were most welcome.

The first couple of times I encountered randomly scattered feathers I just savored the finds, keeping those that touched something deep inside me.

But soon it just grew eerie. Even short jaunts to the mailbox now have me finding a feather or two.

I’ve always had a special affinity for feathered beings. Childhood summers spent raising mallards and pheasants and all. My boys had aviaries full of finches, budgies, doves, and more until our family imploded. Every abode was equipped with bird feeders and baths. Occasionally, we saved the fallen fledgling.

As far back as I can recall, I’ve felt a deep sense of longing. A firm belief I was abandoned here. That I had another life on another plane of existence.

All my memories of Them, of The Before are within me. Locked in Memory’s Vault. The thing is, as this vessel I reside in ages, that Vault occasionally cracks open.

Feathers. Shards of memories. Longing. Mind-slipping. Time-slipping.

Meditation, contemplation, rumination.

Bloodied fingers gathering shards of shattered glass invoke the following:

Flash ∑ back + point + light

Shards of photos by N.E.

Tremoring hands shattered a mirror Before the dawn broke Each shard a reflection Of suppressed memories

A time before time A distant beyond Elements willed into place Power beyond Never abused Harmony Belonging

What went wrong?

Shards of photos by N.E.

Abandoned here Trapped in this form Shackled in constraint of Time Among a species bent on self-destruct Of the cruelest kind Countless innocents Suffering along

Alone. But… at times I almost sense them My others From beyond

Shards of photos by N.E.

Feathers abound Creatures commune Behind closed eyes Visions of beyond

Bits of memories Shimmering shards of shattered mirror Cutting, piercing Scattering light around For what purpose Does it all continue on?

Shards of photos by N.E.

The air is cooler and crisp. Green yields to yellows, reds, fading, falling. Flocks of feathered friends gather, gardens in full glory, harvesting in full swing.

It is the time of year my thoughts turn inwards. Questioning, ruminating. Lingering dread of the coming darkness, the bitter grip of future icy cold clouds the mind.

Wanting to stay in the now, I find my shades and drive along rural country roads. Rushing, racing until the colors blur. Time momentarily stops, catching air over each hill… never flying for long, tires hitting the ground again, but my thoughts continue upward, on and on.

N.E. sans sunglasses. Photo by N.E.