The Call (with poetry)

More about The Call (with poetry)

All my images - including base, evolutions and final results - and poetry are prohibited from commercial use.

☆ALAN☆, thank you very much for your help! I wanted to create something different, somewhat outside my comfort zone. But I only had a vague idea. You turned your words into a prompt I could work with. I looked at it, added modifiers, shaped the end result, and dove into a different style of poetry. Once again, I thoroughly enjoyed the collaboration.

—

** The Call **

The smoke curls,
thick with the scent of sage and myrrh,
a fragrance that clings,
heavy,
penetrating the air,
as she moves,
her dress sweeping,
glowing softly in the flicker of candlelight.
The shadows stretch,
grow,
swirl—
the space begins to breathe,
the air thick with the weight of the past.

The call,
the call,
it lingers,
filling the lungs,
the pulse quickening,
the earth beneath hums,
and the drums rise—
slow,
steady,
echoing in the bones,
and the ancestors emerge,
their forms solidifying,
stepping forward
from the mist,
the call,
the call,
a pulse within the rhythm of the drum.

The ground trembles,
the body trembles,
the pulse of the earth,
the pulse of the heart,
the call,
the call.
Sweat and breath,
The dance ignites—
the rhythm of the body,
wisdom rises in the air,
whispers carried by the smoke,
Visions shimmer
blur into the haze,
until nothing remains
but the dance,
the pulse,
the call,
the call,
and the earth vibrating,
rising with the rhythm,
until all is one—
the call,
the call,
forever echoing.


With love, © Aífe