Big Sky

Out in the backcountry, we are free, to do what we do, to simply be.
	This is where we start, and this may be the end, where we can return again.
		The sky is big, it lasts forever, as does the land and water.
Water as blue as it possibly can be, and clear so deep down you can see.
	Places to go, beauty to experience, in the land, and in ourselves.
		Out in the backcountry, we discover what it is like to be free.
To simply be.

Lizz 1989

I grieve, and dare not show my discontent
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant;
I seem stark mute, yet inwardly do prate;
I am, and not; I freeze, and yet am burned;
Since from my self, my other self I turned.

My care is like my shadow in the sun,
Follows my flying, flies when I pursue it
Stands and lies by me, does what I have done,
This too familiar care does make me rue it;
No means I find to rid him from my breast;
Till by the end of things it be supprest.

Some gentler passions slide into my mind
For I am soft, and made of melting snow.
Oh be more cruel, Love, and be so kind;
Let me float or sink, be high or low;
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
or die, and so forget what love e'er meant.

- Queen Elizabeth I -

A FRUIT CALLED PASSION

The morning began with the setting of the sun.
Around the fire we gathered one by one.
  For breakfast there was fruit of all fashion.
   You and I chose the one called passion.
    With sounds of songs endlessly singing.
     We explore each new fealing.
      I watched you delight in the many textured layers of life.
       While I talked to a soldier who had no wife.
        Across fields of fallen crosses we were sojourning.
         Till natures voices summoned, babbling and yearning.
          From the shores of a stream both narrow and wide.
           To an Isle of splendor our passion did glide.
          In a sea of voices we searched for that spot.
         To share natures treasure we had brought.
        We talked without speaking.
       Only to find that we are both listening.
      We share drinks of liquid fire.
     Building the flames of passion higher.
    Walking for hours or simply eternity.
   We find our way back to freinds and insanity.
  With a friend who is none.
You depart for sleep leaving just one.
  With embers slowly dying.
   Passion fades and I am crying.
    With the comming of a second sunrise.
     I look within and summarize.
      Momments of passion forever passing.
       Only memory and desire keep them lasting.
        Gone with the dark are the passions of the mind.
         And as I sleep, I wonder, is the passion real or just a fruit of some kind.

Madwand, August 24, 1995

R a i n b o w B r i d g e

Just this side of Heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies who has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill or old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; each one misses someone very special who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; his eager body begins to quiver. All at once he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted. When you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses and purrs rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life, but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together. It just wouldn't be Heaven without them...

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Last Update: 27th November, 1997
Created: 1995

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