I have walked these grounds before but never that far.
The young raven was surprisingly good at flying and his parents had no issue to let me close by.
It was a pleasing moment where tenderness and grace materialized in the blue reflection of the inked feathers.
Somewhere in this lost world between 2 feelings.
This is the place… I’ll be waiting.
Where the flowing movement of the writing hand is matching the music of the waves on the rock below.
Where innocence dispatches to the blinds poetry through these words on the slated wall, carved and painted.
Where sounds make me dance and air is moist and pure.
Where the floor is covered by gold and rust and the flesh is only mineral.
I’ll be waiting
In the tunnel of lush and lust overlapping the stone walls on each side.
Where fires were ignited under the shadow of the moon and fear spread in the guilty ones.
This is the place…
Where I’ll be waiting to touch your hand.
My feet never could reach the ground and even if you need an anchor, I can only offer you the wings of the black bird that shapes the future. But it can help you extracting freely all the gems within your own soil. All this wealth you are meant to offer to others but first to yourself.
Regrets is only for what has already passed. Regrets are sour friends grinding on your treasure.
The corridors of time have many exits and winding path towards the ocean. An obvious opening is sometimes covered by invisible cobwebs, but none are strong enough to stop you. Rocks are eroding under our feet and the storm may always come back, but in this moment where the ravens are dancing,
I’ll be waiting for you.
The Raven's Nest 
Reblogged this on Wandering Spirit and commented:
This is one of the most brilliant posts I’ve seen and read (both photos and text in this post). Amazing.
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Thank you so much!
Your appreciation is such a wonderful surprise.
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This post is amazing!! I re-blogged it, and posted a link to it on my facebook page.
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Bravo! What is this place?
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Thank you Carlos. This is one of the many war bunkers in Sydney. Within the city you can get lost in these meanders of human fears. I love this particular one because it is hidden, secluded, a lost world.
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A beautiful and haunting scene with your words transportive to another place where our daily lives no longer exist.
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Thank you Hyperion!
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Entirely all my pleasure, truly 🙂
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I don’t know what I love best – the poetry or photos. Both are amazing.
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Dear Kerry, Thank you very much for taking the time to visit me.
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It was my privilege – I have tried to visit several times but your site takes a long time to load? Then my computer times out…:(
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Oh. I do put my picture in size Big…maybe it is a mistake. So sorry about that.
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No problem – I need to learn patience. 🙂
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You kept me on the edge of my seat moving between raven, graffiti, mysterious places and mysterious feelings….
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I had the same feeling of discovering while reading you in”A gathering of winter trees” Happy New 2016. Wishing you the very best adventures.
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Awesome place – like something out of the Lost Boys. And somewhere I always hope to chance to upon.
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Come to this side of the mirror then…
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That would be nice but don’t think I could justify £600 for an urban explore..:/
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Lovely!!! Just lovely.
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