The palm at the end of the mind, beyond the last thought, rises in the bronze distance. A gold feathered bird sings in the palm, without human meaning, without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason that makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

moment

9 degrees of separation.
every fleeting moment.

Sunrise at 7.23
"Gray whales are beginning to appear off Point Reyes as they travel south on their annual migration. Because the point juts 10 miles out to sea, it provides a prime spot to see the giant mammals as they journey south from waters off the coast of Siberia and Alaska to the warmer waters of Baja California."
I am swimming with Cincinnatus.
Take me away, the whales, the fish, the sea.
Posted by at
Labels: , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)