“In the land of Dreamtime, any landmark I’ve visited I stare at not only the feature itself, but I also sweep the area in which it finds itself at home.
Thousands of years ago, what was the story that the people told? That oral history chipped away like the eroded figures of the Dreamtime Sisters, still standing proud, forever in their dancing poses, making an impression, entrancing those who watch them. Soundless, they inspire tales. As guardians, as protectors, they visually sing.
Keep the land beautiful. The longer we stay and the longer our surroundings capture the imagination, the spirits of the future will give you endless stories.
Perhaps some yet untold stories will recover what was lost. Or maybe the Sisters’ role in Creation is just this:
and share the story.”
Silence follows my musings.
“Perhaps.” You say, your head on my right shoulder, embracing me from behind. You kiss my neck and I turn into you holding your sides. I look up into the stars of your eyes, I lean in and kiss you, my lips dancing over yours.
Here we are, creating a memory, honoring their presence, explaining to each other our place, how we fit together, how we also are a part of Dreamtime.
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