The earth is bound, and it is bound by specific moments and moment-ous feelings of flitting experience. I have a sense that all is finite and nothing can ever be re-retrieved; but the sky is eternal in my mind, ever-present and in a way ever retrievable. It is constant yet constantly changing. When I think of times I have looked up to the sky or been above and looked down below, the feeling is full of the presence of existence, always pure, and never outgrown with the passage of time.
it’s been so long since i’ve seen the pure horizon. i wonder how it must look from the heights of icy peaks you must scale to touch, where life is visible steaming from open lips. surrounded by quiet armies of books and the barricade of cold marble walls, i gaze at the window waiting for a clearing of gray rainless skies. a ray of light shreds through this immovable glass, suffusing stone diffusing gold; my eyes thirstily drink up every last drop.
The earth is bound, and it is bound by specific moments and moment-ous feelings of flitting experience. I have a sense that all is finite and nothing can ever be re-retrieved; but the sky is eternal in my mind, ever-present and in a way ever retrievable. It is constant yet constantly changing. When I think of times I have looked up to the sky or been above and looked down below, the feeling is full of the presence of existence, always pure, and never outgrown with the passage of time.
July 2, 09
