Serendipity, synchronicity strikes again. As I was posting this, I read Speccy’s post today and it seems to me to be on this wavelength I am trying to get at. In all the immensity of bits, togethers, etc. sometimes we organise and weave some sense. Sometimes, Sometimes not.
Grounded in glory
The geese fly
Arrowed to some far corner of the sky
Cornered I follow
Eyes stretching past that line of sight
Blinking as the light brings tears
Stung, strung together my eyelashes
are silk threads, binding strands,
shimmering embroidering possibility.
I too would fly
chased like the phoenix
to rise again, again.
Softly stroke shimmering silk, cotton, hemp
Not a goose with foolish dreams
I will not break the threads
Stretch and stitch, knot and tie
This weave is my life.
Sublime, foolish, unutterable, all,
Grounded in glory.
written March 2013.
and just now reading Kim Stanley Robinson’s “The Years of Rice and Salt” see page 429.