symbolism | createdbyrcw

So much symbolism wrapped up in something so temporal

I didn’t bring you flowers today.

I know I usually do on Thursdays,

But that’s just it, the problem,

I usually do on Thursdays.

Flowers have become rote;

Like the sunrise and sunset.

Assumed, ignored, a fact,

Something we take as a given.

And not just by you, you see,

But by me, the florist, the neighbour.

If you don’t get flowers today,

It’s not that I love you any less,

That you have become less important,

But that you are too important for trivia.

Flowers should be special—are special—

Like each and every sunrise and sunset.

They should be adored and admired

Like I adore and admire you every day.

Flowers should make people stop

And smile, and breathe, and think.

Every flower should be a memory

Burned into our brains, triggering

Love, joy, serenity, excitement, bliss.

I didn’t bring you flowers today.

I know I usually do on Thursdays,

But not today.

Today, I brought you feathers.

It may sound ridiculous to say, but wherever and whenever I travel, I find symbols of my inner journey, the personal transit that extends beyond airline tickets, overstuffed luggage, and souvenir shops. And it’s often not until I arrive home to look at the images within my camera, that I see the patterns.

Am I imprinting meaning where none inherently exists? Does it matter?

Whether inherent or imposed, the imagining of a pattern changes me and the pattern becomes true.

The following are a selection of images from my travels last year through British Columbia, a break before I began on the next great journey of my life, and one I take alone.