when kingfishers catch fire and dragonflies draw flame -- it is as if no such lines were ever written -- as if only nature cut through passages of time and circumstance to make a constellation of light to lead us toward what matters -- to hang, otherwise, suspended like those particles of dust imprisoned in a shaft of sun, hoping for escape but trapped in a tractor beam of lethargy and comfort: more than this takes movement, unpleasance, turning through fear and loneliness and other such constructs -- to an open field, open water, sky
No comments:
Post a Comment