Rainbows, which occur often, are neither miraculous nor significant.
--------Gaius Plinius Secundus, Natural History.
Wispy clouds passed over the moon like cheap hotel curtains as
I sped past St. David the Armenian Church. Its stone face shined
a few moments before shadowy misgivings crept across. I thought
of you, Wisdom, and how you perished under the Sun. Just before
marauding Scythians snuffed out your hearth-fires.
It was in light loving Persia, darling. It seemed the sky continues
to fall on creased brows there.
I also thought of you, Major Frye. Your sullen cage has been cast
off. Now you are free to sail above all the dross we still treasure. We
are not lucky enough to understand what that encompasses.
Our heavens are limited to the Moon, Sun and sometimes Stars.
Tonight the moon was so full it stole the spark from every star. Heavenly
bodies have a gravity which contain the living. A gravity your spirit
has escaped. May what you see now make your soul swell with joy. May
what you have left behind shine like stars in new heavens. Heavens we
will all, someday, gather under.
1 comment:
Twighlight is what i consider upon reading this entry. The sun dodges behind the hedge grooves, but will resurface tomorrow. I appreciate your thoughts and hold them close to my mammeries. I too Mourn the Major more than thou knows.
Velvetnose
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