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Could we with ink the ocean fill....
and were the skies of parchment made....
Were every stalk on earth a quill........................
And every man a scribe by trade............................
To write the love of God above.....................................
If you could see this animated, you would see a stream of air condensing at the lower cloud border and flowing towards you.
I laid on the ground to take this picture. I felt like I was flying. When you take off, you break the clouds. I could see myself breaking the clouds and ending up in that open blue space. A place of clarity.
This is why I decided to stay in Arizona after leaving California. Big open skies.
Don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my permission.
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Well, let the poets cry themselves to sleep
And all their tearful words will turn back into steam
But me I'm a single cell
On a serpents tongue
There's a muddy field where a garden was
And I'm glad you got away
But I'm still stuck out here
My clothes are soaking wet
From your brother's tears
And I never thought this life was possible
You're the yellow bird that I've been waiting for
