The fog departs, revealing in the distance
A first glimpse, its magnetism
Like flowers pre-bloom
Like fire, but still and many.
The forest lanterns light your way through the trees,
Almost a mirage - but, rub your eyes and they remain.
Through an opening at some elevation,
You might find your way to a kind of place
That's only seen on a certain occasion.
|
|
|
From the perspective of the seer
The marvel of coming up over the hill and catching this first glimpse, in the distance. Its magnetism
Like fire but still, & many
The fog that comes in and out over the san francisco bay
Theyre almost congregating themselves, with the smaller ones surrounding the larger ones
A kind of magic place that only appears at a certain time of day, a certain time of year, you might not find it if you were a little later or earlier
in the foreground, conifer peaks
in the distance, luminous orbs, like flowers pre-bloom
almost a mirage, but rub your eyes and they remain
sometimes it's not about seeing the forest through the trees but
seeing through the trees to what's on the other side
find an opening and some elevation
and maybe you'll see them, the trees of light
from below
eruptions, explosions
tear the forest apart
from above
like candles in the fog
to mark the occasion
mark the horizon
an opening in the forest and the fog revealing
in the distance, luminous orbs,
like flowers pre-bloom
like fire but still, & many
the mirage festival of ancient tales!
moving here and there, seldom seen,
but still i seek it. dare i proceed?
--- google comment notes ---
light as potential or energy or something
it's a moving target festival that you're maybe going toward
I like the mix of seeing a target (place) in the distance and that target itself being ephemeral, or requiring certain conditions to see
I like this vibe, it's like some kinda secret mirage festival
the marvel of coming up over the hill and catching this first glimpse, in the distance. its magnetism
Like candles in the fog, flowers pre-bloom
the forest lanterns light your way through the trees.
almost a mirage, but rub your eyes and it sticks
this kind of magic place only appears (at certain times, on certain occasions)
find the right conditions to see what's on the other side:
an opening, some elevation,
and maybe you'll see them, the trees of light, the way forward
They say you must time it just right
A certain time of day, a certain time of year
If you find an opening and some elevation,
you can catch a glimpse of the festival
lit up bright by candles in the fog
almost a mirage, but rub your eyes and they remain
They say it's always just out of reach
That you could never run there in time to catch it
But I will keep trying