Did they come back again?
Yes
I didn't see them then
I caught glimpses along the path
They herded me and the children and it took an hour to walk an hour round the field the other way
I saw his hound was taller than he who is not two, he is not two
Later then after many times calling out and sitting there at midnight and noon
Countless walks until I couldn't bear it
Every dog great or small was a mote besides that hound
Dragon backed and tall as trees
Then my sweet daughter wanted to take photos in the woods so we went.
I breathed that air
The wind began to rise
I saw her fear but knew they wouldn't take us
Knowing they watched.
I wept over the bits of branches left in days afterwards when her sister
Killed the tree with magic
But this day sweet daughter was shouting out that faces were on every tree
Eventually
Her blood had chilled.
We found ourselves upon the mound
I had to see my tree who when Jan and I laid down there rained upon us
His shouting that it only rained upon the tree and nowhere else
As he
Pulled on his shirt and I lay laughing at the rain upon my face.
She didn’t want to stay by then her camera full
I asked for one more of the tree.
It was there then I have it's image here
It was standing then
Later after sending the pictures and uploading, loading, looking
I gazed into the leaves that now are no more
And there in miniature I saw what I had seen before
Tiny monster, tiny craft
Inside a shining bubble in the high branches
That great and frightening playful hound no bigger than a gnat.
Huge and massive eye that like the sea when I was small had swallowed me.
Until I fought to stay, then set me free
A dimple on the midnight pool
That craft that shook the trees
A toy
Encapsulated
We could see it through
the lens and the lens and the lens
They bid farewell to me.

I only took one tiny bell
From the flower, wanted to smell
That scent of the air when I last walked in the sacred dell.

Sitting with Alice, her world and mine
Suns on the water world of honeysuckle
Scent of bluebells

On the page where I pressed it
For some future person to find
Words so that the moment will not be lost in time

"This sweet scented flower
Contains the universe
A droplet of water reflected the sun
In the honeysuckle
While I breathed in
The bluebells.

"I remembered
The layer up
And the layer down
When I was tiny
And when I stood in every place
Reborn, thrice born
I walked from the woodland"

Randomly selected book and opened with chance
Placed it inside,
"Zen Buddhism Reflections for Every day"

Curiosity compels to read that page
So I did and what it said was profound.

Flower crumpled in it's sheath of white paper.
Writing these words, losing the moment
Couldn't find the page to replace it.

I’m French. And since yesterday, I guess it’s enough to understand how I feel.

I learned about the attacks on Paris as soon as it happened. And I can’t get them out of my head since.

It’s not just a fact, it’s an emotion. A feeling. That everything you ever fought for mean nothing. That peace is just a concept, and will never be reality.

I know, that horrible things happen every day, every moment, everywhere. But I never had to face it, ever. I’m a young adult, and I never felt insecure in my country. I never saw war. And I always thought that I never will.

But is it real? Is it possible, is it really happening right now?

I’m afraid.

And I will never give up.

Just give me a little time to only think about my country, my freedom. Give me a little time to cry, and think.

Je rêvais et je jouais dans les jours de le rêve, dans les jours de la vengeance.
Un enfant a joué
Un acteur a joué un rôle
Je jouais et vendu des pommes
D'autres vendu des couvertures
Je portais un manteau dans le jeu
La pièce raconte une histoire
Dans les jours du jeu
Le jeu des jours de la vengeance

Les enfants ont écrit les mots
Écrit mots gribouillés avec des crayons
Ils les ont écrit sur le papier et sur le plancher
Nous sommes dans un jeu des jours de la vengeance

Welcome back little traveller
Blood of my blood
Fresh from the forming
Into confusion
Seeing with new eyes
All you have forgotten.
Wisdom of the source
You have to learn anew
To stand and speak
Treasure this moment
Keep the source with you
Listen to your angels

I pulled a **** from paving stones
Out of compassion I planted it
It grew into a mass of beautiful blue flowers.

Who is to say why the rain seeds where  it does

I stood while frogs fell from above
A woman said that now and then
They fall and go to a pond on the field

Within the huge infinite mind
Of cosmos fractal wide alive

Is all that is

All who live one mind,
Friend and foe,
All the lives ever lived
Yes even those
Who went back to the Source

When all wake up we will see

That seeds from above put us here
That seeds from above are why
It rains Cats and Suns
Dogs and Frogs
Lobelias Planets
You and I too
When we were the first ones

Putting your mind to good use can be found in discernment
but no-one can tell you the rules where there are none.
Dreamers are overlooked in the main, mainly by those who see time as money, and dreaming to them is you adding to their income.