There are a few places that smiled by and stood aside as the world around them raced to become all important centres of human civilisation , not because they couldn't but simply cause they were wise enough to not.
One of them is my native town, Thalora. It is.I hope will always be,a place with moss covered walls that tell you that is the only way they can stand. With roads that wind up and down a hill , convincing it that it has not been tamed , just adorned with.A Place with whispering trees and singing insects, where nothing can be ugly,and nothing can produce anger, while beauty and peace canvas everything there is and ever will be. Like wisdom over wrinkles.
With little known Ancient temples that were made when man still had ample time and acumen to build the divine, dress it and present it to the gods as homes. Legends and myths sculpted into walls and entire eternties, as paintings and word take back their true meaning and stature.Ponds from waters of a holy river a thousand miles away and a giant tree just as old as the skies. A Place where reverance is not demanded, but is fully understood.
Where sunsets on the hills make you realise that you are witnessing something that nature wants to show off, that this was where god stood and pondered, and all poetry was born.
I have my home here Under the stars and among these trees Singing a thousand songs as the crickets please Smelling the rain, with winds to talk Rivers and sands with gods to walk As drama unfolds in a second , by the hour I wish I could play, but a small little part Ponder at the twinkle, the firefly's beating heart Glad I am, at peace I shall be I have a home here And I wish I'd never leave
Where the best thing that can happen to you is a power cut along with the night sky.