PHOTOGRAPHY
Whispers of the Vortex
By
Christopher Sopher
When we arrived at Chimney Rock, A sacred hush embraced the air. The red rocks whispered their ancient talk, And peace awaited everywhere. I felt transported far from home, To where the sacred prayers are spun— Like distant echoes from Tibet, Beneath the glowing setting sun. The flags in colors bold and bright— Blue, yellow, red, and white—they swayed. In every thread, a whispered prayer, A peaceful spell the breeze replayed.
The stupa rose, serene and grand— A sacred tower shaped by hand. Its form stretched high, some forty feet, A symbol where the heavens meet. Its purpose wrapped in mystery’s thread— A place where prayers for peace are spread. Each stone was placed with care and grace, A monument to time and space.
When we arrived at Chimney Rock,
A sacred hush embraced the air.
The red rocks whispered their ancient talk,
And peace awaited everywhere.
A sacred hush embraced the air.
The red rocks whispered their ancient talk,
And peace awaited everywhere.
I felt transported far from home,
To where the sacred prayers are spun—
Like distant echoes from Tibet,
Beneath the glowing setting sun.
To where the sacred prayers are spun—
Like distant echoes from Tibet,
Beneath the glowing setting sun.
The flags in colors bold and bright—
Blue, yellow, red, and white—they swayed.
In every thread, a whispered prayer,
A peaceful spell the breeze replayed.
Blue, yellow, red, and white—they swayed.
In every thread, a whispered prayer,
A peaceful spell the breeze replayed.
