The persistence of myth

The stories of generations float through space, living on in the minds, hearts and discs of untold millions. If the world were devoid of the human race, its myths would live on still, lying dormant, until an intrepid adventurer stumbles on a memory bank - and the stories would burst forth like a raging flood, bringing the race to life once again.

Friday, July 31, 2020

Noon

It was such a heavenly day
The flowers at play with the zephyrs
As I lay 
On the grass that stretched a mile
To the tree line
The sun shone drowsy warm
The geraniums clothed in their heady scent
Wafted memories from a distant time
A sweet afternoon it was
And then the tempest came. 

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