Street Photography: wandering the streets of London and Cologne.
<Click on an images to view and enlarge>
September 2017: Adueni KT
Endlessly i fall caught in a chasm of wonder. Spralling onwards
The bones of my being find shelter & solace ‘neath the comforting shadow of my soul
Sounds of tinkling pipes woven by the winds own charm weave around my soul
Silently i tread the years of earthly time; my one companion, my warrior soul…
With breastplate and sword I stand steadfast and mighty. In silence i rule
Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time cease to be & all there is is the truth….
My name is silence only whispered by the wind when the sky is dark
Suspended timelessly in a space of my own creation; i weave reality with the electrons of my mind…..
All secrets revealed, all knowledge known. At the end of days i shall become into being and She will rise within
And so it goes on bood spilled, innocents ravaged man’s death on the cards….
The time is now here for man to be accounted. Too late for good deeds…
Save your soul, lest you weep and pray for no more tears. Tis over, all done…
Beach huts hibernate dreaming of hot days and sand. Returning cycles
Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time ceases to be & all there is is the truth. The land will endure over centuries of upheavel, always renewing itself at perfect points giving humanity life once more
Words from the ‘Keeper of Scrolls’ ‘Truth is is darkness suspended ina time that does not exsist’
January 2017 (All photos and words are original and belong to the author)
It wasn’t the shadows in the woods that haunted me most
It was the ones in your eyes
It wasn’t the wind screeching through the bare boughs that bought me deathly chills
It was your terrified scream
It wasn’t the track through the forest leading nowhere
It was your frantic footsteps running… running…
It wasn’t the lake serene and beautiful on that moonless night
It was your body; serene and beautiful in the water
It wasn’t the single red bloom that fluttered silently out of nowhere to rest upon your breast
It was that single drop of red blood
It wasn’t my hands loving and tender
It was the white of my knuckles grasping the still bloodied knife…
Photography – me
Keeper of Scrolls