The North Moor

The North Moor …

Like a snowy veil the fog lay thick upon the land of North Moor
Not easily spotted, but there none the less, lay a timber framed Tudor cottage
The surrounds of the cottage gave way to marshy overgrowth and dew draped yellow archangel hoods hiding in the shadows
The aroma; acrid, the air; damp and cool, presented a forecast of homey familiarity among a heather canvass

Tranquility ever embraced the land and all who dwell within
Soft serenity coursed from the foundation and frame of timber that comprised the cottage
Where one might suffer from loneliness or an abstract form of perdition, another might live in a splendor of glorious obliged contentment
Within the walls and below the roof lied an almost ominous sense of emptiness
Truer still was the grasp of a conceptual sentience paradigm

Wonderment remained just beyond the horizon that seemed so far away
An appearance that was merely an illusion due to vast bogs of peat that took over the countryside
The scene developed to become a genuinely engaging revelation to showcase its true reverence
Though a morn much like any other it was one that forced the senses to align in distinguished uniformity

Nil was overlooked as the fields gave way to the hills and hills to the heavens
With nothing missing, progression from this serene prosperity was impossible
For this was a land unlike any other, providing beyond the breadth of what is necessary to sustain simple mortality
Serene beauty provided an absolute unselfish and unconditional internal place of profound solitude

The North Moor …