Tree of Life

The Universe is vast . . 

we wander through life’s deserts and valleys, the sands of time immeasurable . . 

We cannot tell if things are closer or farther than they appear . . 

and within each grain of sand, there is a Universe. 

Wandering the sand dunes in search of the Tree of Life . . Death Valley National Park, California © Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography

Beside The Pillar of Truth

In times of ancient, you left your love letter to me upon the shore, an infinite circle, made of sand and stone; drawing me back to you in this lifetime. 

Reynisfjara Black Sand Beach, Vik, Iceland © Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography

Let Us Be, Still

Come sit beside me in the stillness, amongst tree and sky; 

I want you to feel my heart, and I, yours 💞

A small dwelling in the gardens, by Reinhardswald Forest. A sacred space for silence, stillness, meditation, and healing. For the inner transformation of peace and love. © Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography

In All Its Glory, The Rising Sun

I am in awe of the rising sun;  After all, it shows itself after the night sky, brimming with stars, and a moon, most bewitching 

The morning sun rising above the mountains, which I witnessed whilst road tripping from Nevada to California © Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography

Sheet of Paper

Sadness overcame me, out of the blue

I couldn’t explain why I felt this way,

though the tears rushed out of me like words

from a fountain pen,

upon the parchment,

line by line,

life by life

drying,

dying

as the well of my teardrops turned to dust

and just like that,

I was gone.

© Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography “The Illusion of Desolation”

© Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography “On a night such as this, you’d be surprised by what you might see, or what you don’t see . .

She Who Bathes in Starlight

She bathed in starlight, this goddess of the night

Nourishing her spirit with elements potently raw, and ancient as time itself

Bathing in the cosmic sea, she floated away to the deepest recesses of herself,

and then on to different selves, different lives

With the last pull of the moon turning the tide back to this world,

The sun rose above the hills, while she squinted awake, sleepy-eyed,

and I tickled her nose with mine, and kissed her ever so gently on the forehead,

because I loved her presently more than I had yesterday,

And so it goes every morning.

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Photo: Lisa Ellen Goodman Photography