Sunday, August 10

It was one of those moments. You know the ache you feel when you realize you can’t possibly put into words what you see lying on that bench, looking skyward. You know you’ll never be able to quite remember how the sparks of the fire mingle with the tiny bright stars, frozen in the sky. And something inside you freezes too, when you think about how you’ll never get this moment back. No matter how you try you’ll never recreate the suspended stars and the dancing sparks. Or maybe you will, but you’ll never feel this way again. You’ll never be as taken aback as right now. Shocked by the clarity of it all, the even, still, 3 dimensional living of it all. Cold air, orange embers and the bitter smells of the past that force your heart down the paths of the future where things will never be the same. For better or worse, the days that burn the eyes of our hearts today will flow by us and new days will take their place. This, what I see above me tonight, the sky, the smoke, the pain and the promise, written so obviously in the life of nature, this is my life too. Time and space are creation. I am creation too. Even after all these words, I still have that ache.