Woodsman's Lodge

Investigating the doorway that leads to the Turret if: The Whispering Winds.

 
Woodsman's Lodge

The turret, a narrow winding stair. That, intrigued. Being, that it be only a second visit. To this Woodsman's Lodge. Stop at each level, and its clouded windows view. Look off down to the endless valleys, and ancient forests. That spread out bellow, from atop the perch. Sat this majestic almost forgotten retreat. Could feel the histories, of its past glories. Echo down, through its warren like hallways. A ringing bell.
Atone...

To have enter, a door. To this winding, forgotten. How had it not been seen. From the gardens wondered through, explored. The endless views, of the faraway mountain ranges. Crowned, in their ever shifting wonder. Bring on such unpredictable weather, here. Reaching up, to the endless blues beyond, cast beams of golden streaming sunlight. Into early morning patch works. With feather light, touches. Sweep. The valley's floors... where, only wildlife roam. Awaits... the Stag.
The coming storm.

Here alone, wondering. With this stupendous view. Somehow... crowded. The shivered whisper, of a calling. How high, this stair way climb. Come, lets go... move on?
To reach the dream partaking...
A second time.
Alone...

It would seem this feel, to reach up to the heavens. To disappear, amongst those shifting clouds. That now, not seem so friendly, beckon. This, the second visit, and like, to have had been here? For all of the ages, of the stone-works surround, of those that whispers lent. That deemed, to dream. To build, this secluded Woodsman's Lodge. With its mysteries, that lay behind. Its doorways... that told, its stories unfold.
Upon each tread... of this turrets, stairway climb.
Into the mystery...
Déjà vu

Reviews

[Chris]

a thought-full and unique read.

[Rory CJ Frankson]

thank you Chris, I'll stop by and read your Ink. :)

[Rory CJ Frankson]

Somehow, it's all connected. Like a puzzle works to paradoxical happen-stance. This reflections of the yet unknown and the influences that arrive, setting the stage. Where live unfolds, from within itself... is maybe... all apart, of the mystery. Of it's experience.