Archive for flash

Fragments

Posted in published with tags , on December 28, 2009 by Dean

…from certain turnings in the road, as we wound our way along the endless knot, we, that is to say, our fine and diverse collection of travelers, serious and even desperate looking at times, but hearty underneath, were able to look on paradise, and in those passing moments, the raveling had some order and made some mystic sense, even while our view of it changed, and we, marching along, once again lost its sight…

…in its way, no more or less unknown than any other, but having resolved to pursue its exploration, we set forth, declaring also our trust in the Great Explorer and in ourselves, all made in the likeness of one another and having an equal say in the matter…  …our departure accompanied by wild tales, predictions and hopes for various adventures, difficulties, inspirations and other wondrous things, from those who knew no better than we, and would soon be left behind…

…and so the first portion of our journey included much sorting out, a fresh consideration of our supplies in view of the vast country in which we traveled, and the discovery that some things we had been given or otherwise acquired were more burdensome than useful and might be discarded to lighten our steps…

…occurred to me without preamble that there could be only one perfection, and nature has wisely chosen its proximate, for an infinitude of things may approach it near, or even a little way off, and with their own robust beauty, and so life is not condemned…

…thought of all the things I had been taught, and that the pieces did finally fit together, though when newly manufactured had more precision than was needed, sharp edges that cut at one another, requiring forceful wounding assembly, which has now been eased by much handling and a softening of their outlines…

…just walking along pleasantly, on a sunny day, each step bringing a newly created world that teemed up, yea, swarmed up before you and upon you, leaving its marks but, as I say, pleasantly…

…the night’s society of ghosts playful or anxious, and half-expected rebukes from gods for half-intended offenses…  …inevitable uprisings and invisible currents moving through the dim illumination of embers and intermittent stars, catching sparks and sweeping them to terminal frenzy, the wind’s low moan and high wail filled with whispered song and laughter, mumbled explanations and dubious advice…  …voices like our own would sound from some distance, telling a muddled tale, spoken by so many at one time…

…a crudely drawn map made up in my youth, the road a jagged fracture in its heart-shaped landscape…  …a sandy, earthen road eager for each new urgent message, the marks of hands and feet and knees…  …leading to wild mountains summoning mist to their arms…

…how a man stands upright, defying gravity and common sense as he does, for if one considers it, most things are rooted in the ground, or are broader at the bottom, or at least have four legs to stabilize them on a turning world, but the feet of man seem small support for his ambitious height…  …perhaps it is the mind, spinning gyroscopic thoughts, that keep him from toppling, but make him wander, as he believes first one thing, and then another…

…he was quite an old man, though with some humorous vigor left in his dark eyes…  …he said he had only come to the past for death, and that he preferred the future, that becoming was better than having been…  …not being dead, I was uncertain how to take this…

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