…..a small extract from Silver’s Threads

earth speaks…..

...earth speaks

I am that which is your bones, teeth, nails, hair…your skin, dark or fair…no difference does it make to me…for you are one…in all, in me.

When the element of air wafts though your hair, it lifts my leaves and blesses them with coolness or rips at them with taloned fingers, pulling them from their last clinging to the near dormant tree…until falling, falling, they land on my skin and become, in their rotting…one with me again. Mould spore and fungi are born from their dying…small pelts of furry mosses cover my body and lift tiny star faces to their ancient, shining siblings above…to bathe in starlight…moonlight, then closing, nestle deep within the fronds of ferns, to hide from the face of the blinding one’s glare.

When the element of water pours its silver weight on the boughs of my trees or pools in earthy furrows, before breaking loose, gushes…thrillingly, mindlessly joyful, in their rush to reach a larger blending of their sweet and salty siblings…always moving…never still unless, caught by the great blinding one in a puddle of my muddiness, they too grow over with slimy algae and frog spawn. Water becomes earth…the rest seeping…oozing downward, deep within my body, quenching my thirst for moisture and germinating seeds that have lain dormant beneath my skin when, as a minor itch to scratch, they break the surface and are nurtured by the blinding one, until they stretch their new limbs to him in supplication…greening in his light.

When the element of fire, an off shoot of the blinding one breaks loose upon the earth, all flee in fear of his heat…and yet again, deep within my hardened crust new life awaits the greening. The life force within all things is like this fire…hungry to grow…no fear of change….more fearful that it will not….yet, nothing remains stagnant or still for long when, even on the stillest day, my skin is rock hard and burning to your feet, a cool breeze can lift the heaviest hair from sun drenched, sweat-salted skin and there you have running from your pores, your kindred the ocean of which you are a part, pooling in the furrows between your breasts or running down your face from soaking hair.

When you cut me I bleed just as you do…I spill my guts to you in rich black oils, full of the fossilised bodies of my many selves…my trees run red with gooey resins and sap gushes, translucent, through pliant stems, just as your skin runs red with blood when cut….and no different to your lymph fluids that lubricate your innards. All are the blood in my veins, like the plasma deep within my seething molten core…hot, red, pulsing, like the blood  through you heart…oxygenated by the element of air…pumping the fiery heat, that animates your limbs, your brain, your nerve endings…helping you to breathe, to smell the aroma of your environment…as the fluids of saliva run to taste the sweetness of the bounty of my body…. or the bitterness of your own destructive ways.

…and so all is one through the bindings and blendings of these elements…no two operating in isolation. So why would you think you are alone, separate or different to them in your being…as they run through you so do they run through me….and then Great Goddess animates us all…yes, even I and my brother the blinding one have come from Her….Primordial One….the First Breath.

Silver (c)


    1. …thank you Kirsa…the book is an urban fantasy/story interspersed with some “raw” extracts like this one “earth speaks.” Thank you for subscribing and hope you enjoy all of what is to come….Silver


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