The Travelers

Two pass by, unobserved by most.
Two bind together and travel on a soft blanket of silk.
The smallest forms on a river of nothingness.
Still with no movement, no rhythm and no design.
But something happens when they enter the blanket.
Forms of patterns start to appear. Ripples of a long lingering chain evolve.
Before there was nothing to show they were ever there. Now a pathway is left.
The blanket marks their journey and the light and shadows come to life.
We too pass by and on our journey leave a pattern, a mark and a story.
The smallest forms on an endless landscape.
We leave a design, a pattern of a life and nothing is ever the same.
I love the study in both mediums. A beautiful combination of words and image.
Thanks I appreciate your thoughts