The sharp white edge of the prehistoric flint blade glinted in the sunlight against the red clay. The tall man pushed back the leather brim of his wide hat. Kneeling down in the clay, he cleared the edges of earth from the clean edge of the flint .. it was still sharp .. his mind shifted back in time to his hand forming the white edge of the stone blade. Sunlight flashed against his eyes .. In another .. life?
How many lives does it take to remember your own soul?
The man eased the long white flint from the soft clay. How many lives does it take to remember your own soul? .. The sun caught the edge of the flint as he finished knapping its prehistoric edge .. the sunlight split the edge of his hat as he pulled the ancient flint from the clay.
Silently, without movement, as sharp as the flint blade, as bright as the sunlight - the man's soul felt the prehistoric tool maker pull his flint knife from the clay .. and the two were one.
When you cut the fine edge of your Neolithic tools, did you see yourself pull the ancient flint tool from the Earth, tip back your hat and turn your head slightly to shade your eyes from the shaft of sunlight? Was it you who drew those lines on the cavern walls of your ancestors? Did you look for and discover the cave drawings your ancestors etched for you, on the flint-edge of your soul?
The man gently cleaned the red clay from the perfect blade. Did he feel the sunlight illuminate the tear, or did he wipe only the sweat from his brow? He wiped the red clay from the sharp edged white flint and his soul remembered only this moment - together.
How many lives does it take to remember your own soul?
The man eased the long white flint from the soft clay. How many lives does it take to remember your own soul? .. The sun caught the edge of the flint as he finished knapping its prehistoric edge .. the sunlight split the edge of his hat as he pulled the ancient flint from the clay.
Silently, without movement, as sharp as the flint blade, as bright as the sunlight - the man's soul felt the prehistoric tool maker pull his flint knife from the clay .. and the two were one.
When you cut the fine edge of your Neolithic tools, did you see yourself pull the ancient flint tool from the Earth, tip back your hat and turn your head slightly to shade your eyes from the shaft of sunlight? Was it you who drew those lines on the cavern walls of your ancestors? Did you look for and discover the cave drawings your ancestors etched for you, on the flint-edge of your soul?
The man gently cleaned the red clay from the perfect blade. Did he feel the sunlight illuminate the tear, or did he wipe only the sweat from his brow? He wiped the red clay from the sharp edged white flint and his soul remembered only this moment - together.
