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Debra Lalli' Profile

Sunp0019
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Sunp0019
(Continued from Whisper - Parts 1, 2, & 3 - Dream Catcher)

In a hazy meadow among the wooded knoll, a soul wanders scattering the dew of her tears as she searches for the lost members of her beehive. She is known as Whisper, and it was she who once scattered and nurtured the colors of the wildflowers.
... continued
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Sunp0019
Something special is about to happen.
I can feel it in the air.
Houses are being decorated,
... continued
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Sunp0019
Whisper sat there watching the darkness of the night slowly drink in the colors of the sunset.  She saw each swallow of the night transform her dream catcher into the weaving web of deceit it was always meant to be. She watched as the fuzzy, black Spider crept with the edge of darkness up toward the shaking ray of red.  She saw the Ladybug's red burnish in its desperate attempt to flee from what fate is to be.  And, she watched as the sun burnished at each comminuting tinge of black. 

Suddenly, Whisper no longer saw, but felt, that same burnish.  It eminated from a place held deep within her.  It's intensity overpowered the magnitude of the vast darkness around her.  It spurred her into an act of defiance against the natural order of things.   Whisper knew she could not stop the setting sun; but she did think she could stop that black, fuzzy creeping Spider.  In the heat of this moment, Whisper attacked the ominous moving black spot.  She hurled sticks and stones toward the edge of darkness where the Spider crept.  And she burnished even more, until all she saw was red; and still she continued to attack, hurling up and into the Spider's web. 

Whisper no longer feels the drain of the ever burning, thirsting sun.  For when her last ray of red burnished on that fateful evening;  Whisper had looked up and saw that she had destroyed the Spider.  However, she also saw that she had destroyed the Ladybug; and as this dark realization hit, the night swallowed the last rays of light . . . and with it . . . Whisper. 

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Sunp0019
Continued from Whisper - Part 1

When Whisper awoke from her slumber, the skylight of her hideaway shone sparkles of dew glistening upon a spider's web.  Ever so tiny droplets of clear moisture which refracted into silvery gleams that radiated downwards capturing the glorious rainbow of the countryside.  They were gracious prisms of color that infused new hope in Whisper.
... continued
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Sunp0019
I am Red. 
I am intense. 
I signify the vital things in life. 
I may move you toward darkness or towards the light. 
I am the medium for change, whether its one step backwards then two steps forward; or by hurtling you in one direction or the other.  
My force may instill in you a deep passion. 
I highlight emotions with my many shades whether subtle or bold.   
My interaction with other colors can accentuate, overpower, confuse or compliment. 
I provide new dimensions and perspectives to life. 
I am Red 

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Sunp0019
I am Black.
I instill sleep and the ultimate everlasting rest of the body.
Without me, there would be no rebirth of the soul.
... continued
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Sunp0019
I wanted to scream, but the fear and confusion immobilized me.
I wanted to comfort the young ones.
I wanted to make it safe.
... continued
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Sunp0019
I am Green.
I symbolize beauty and richness.
I put the satisfaction in life and inspire growth through my intrigue.
... continued
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Sunp0019
I am White Light. 
You cannot see me, but you can feel me.
You can feel me in the comforting heat as I caress your body.
... continued
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Sunp0019
In a field, golden brown with streaks of orange and yellow and dashes of shimmering green; I lay beneath my favorite tree.  The beginning signs of Autumn are announcing their arrival.  The hay lays long in the field awaiting its final grooming, while the wind carries the fresh scent of those which had just been cut.  Mother Nature radiates crisp spices of her woodland scent, and the tiny brook is babbling out its last summertime story.

The sun shines brightly here, and it warms this nestled place I visit so often. Given into apathy, I play with a golden blade of field grass; sliding it between and betwixt my fingers, and then between my teeth tasting the sweetness of the meadow.  This meadow of gentle silence where the air runs pure from unspoken tensions.  This meadow which infuses some sort of safety from which I do not want to part.
... continued
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