Dusty Old Parchment Egg
Parchment crumbles across the surface of this egg, pale sepia tones darkening at the edges, where uneven lines overlap each other, reminiscent of the ends of a rolled up scroll. Abstract shapes punctuate the surface of the shell, marching along in curved lines that fade in and out of view like so many forgotten words written by a harper ages ago.
Words of the Ages rustles faintly, a page turning quietly in the vast stillness of some long forgotten room. Grains of sand shift and resettle somewhere and a breath of anticipation is drawn, waiting maybe to get a better sense of you.
Words of the Ages touches gently along the edges of your thoughts, tendrils of dry parchment brush against your mind, words in some strange language impressing themselves on dusty fibers and slipping away to somewhere unknown and hidden. You are who you are and all is well.
Words of the Ages sighs out a soft dry breath and draws away slowly, leaving behind some sense of well-being and understanding. Things are as they are. The world is out there waiting.
Dusty Old Parchment Egg turns a page in its heretofore stillness and begins rolling - and rolling - and rolling, its course taking to the fat wall where it bumps quite firmly brought to halt. The stone there is unforgiving, cracking the shell with the collision. The parchment-hued shell simply disintegrates leaving the hatchling on the sands. When the little fellow, rises and weakly flaps his wings, the unique coloring on his lithe form is obvious. Reddish brown is streaked with pale sand stripes the entire length of his body. It takes a croon from his dam to get him moving, snapped suddenly out of his bewildered staring , he takes off across the sands stopping before a tall silver-blonde girl with a boyish build. "Oh! Nabath? Of course I am pleased." And off they go in the direction the other newly-formed pairs have gone, Issanleri leading the way.
Dry, rustles like ancient pages turning against sand are the underlying quality to this voice. A sense of quiet confidence and endless knowledge lies behind every thought, wrapped around with comfort and warmth.
Dead Sea Scrolls/Jordan's Rose-red city of Petra
|Hatched||June 05, 2011|