Breaking repetition, the convincing illusion and solid shape

Photo series/Sixteen photographs . Passing through the icy trails as this new year formed into being, these Photographs were taken on 12/28/2010 along the trail way literally named 'Lucifer falls,' or Upper Treman. [Tree-man] Words compiled and reworked as the images were added, perhaps they will add some layers to the visual. Click each image for a larger view.

I

There is a clearing and it drifts far apart from melted filth,
where a regenerated sense comes layered with new birth.

Time pulls loudly but I bend it's hands. The device, the ruination,
a spell that must be broke. Lift upwards, lift the self.

The only compound to take root and face the motion, the endless echoes.
Lift away. When it freezes over, all of it will melt and echo.

Bend and breathe to shape the self,
And to not bend at any others will.
Power is in the will
Here to face, here to fix, here to move on
And then lifted, from the self-pollution we manifest

Just to give existence something to experience.
When that hits all you want is to lift upward
yet the self is the key,
so wait not for saviors
or excuses, when will is the power.

The universe will do tricky things,
given the power of will or awareness.
Hanging from a chasm of undoubtedly
the most foolish situation.
Winds speak and shapes scream
but we'd muffled the seers
and slit the throats of the magicians,
all to be left with nothing but deceivers.
'Lift me up' is all the soul screams
as robotic machinery tries to urge it

back into the box.

Dare,
to break the repetition of pitfall,
Courage,
to defeat the patterns.
It's an illusion,
albeit a convincing one
of reality's proportions.

When it washes all over again
it will turn to ice.
Either purified or vile
it will still freeze over,
to melt once more
and lift back out.

Through mind,
through eye,
past airs of energy,
through windows,
yet not through glass
That which will melt again.

II

A friend through death left a note saying
"Left the planet, be back shortly"
but by the time this person returned,
their body was gone as well.
Assuming outer realms share moment at quicker pace,
those centuries must have felt like five minutes.

By that time, I was gone as well
but later through new eyes
I saw and knew once again
that the one so acquainted had returned.
Some can't remember such tales when traveling back to skin
but this friend had stored memories
wrapped spiraled up from spine to the mind.

They were stories told through image
and only those that carried memory of timelessness could tune in
to appreciate such wondrous tales
and then melt once more from any imaginable shape.