Mountain range, blue rolling out to the horizon, leaning over to the waters edge, downward into the reflection of sky, water cradles this upthrusting earth, and sun a piercing scintillation over the roof of the world, dancing off the mirror plane of waters. The endless sky full of marching clouds crossing over the foothills. While darkened pools cast silence over rippling fish homes, as they wriggle in the depths, breathing flowing silver, waving fin and tail, hidden from the radar of air dwellers. The skimming waves above the fluid breath of scales, a world, fin-dark and handsome, rolling with mud and shells, and all sounds enhanced through the gleaming pearlight dappling down.
Month: July 2021
Post-pandemic 071221
Bursts of blue and brown light flashing, velocity incredible, churning in a spiral toward the beam. Not seeing much of anything except movement. This too shall pass. This is what inevitably flows from the decisions made, the forks turned toward and taken. Deliberation in each moment, and the course of a life unfolds in following and then a home is found in that working wander.
This the only thing you can count on: movement bringing change, bringing revelation. What happens if the silent, still center is kept in the midst of all this winging? You cannot be apart from that stillness, any more than you can be apart from the movement. It is all a whole – movement, stillness, velocity, firm seat – all this is revealed in each moment.
Reality apparent and reality unfolding in the bone-crowned noggin happens all now and how can it all be re-smoothed into a seemless whole?
A World Made Out of Stories 