civil twilight // letters from the sky

I ride on a beast called life.

She is wild and quick in turn, and when she moves, she moves with decisiveness and vigor.

But i don’t have any reigns. I have no control over where she goes. I have become comfortable with her unpredictable movements, her ups and downs.

I don’t know when her run will become a walk, and i learn to speak to her and train her and instruct her in direction and pace.But I don’t think that day will come. i hope, that it never does.

‘Hey you, what is your name? Where are you going, what is your…. Oh, never mind. She is off again. Life is off on her wild and restless way….’

And i am bound to her, with flesh and bone and rope and leather. I am bound, forever, to her back and the mercy of her nature.

Pray for me, that she does not wear me out. That she does not take me where i can not go, where i am not strong enough to hold on.

-Parcleve

“We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we began and to know the place for the first time.”

- TS Elliot

That which we obtain too easily, we esteem too lightly. It is dearness only which gives everything its value.

What is the world, o soldiers?
It is I:
I, this incessant snow,
This northern sky;
Soldiers, this solitude
through which we go
Is I

W. De La Mare, Napoleon

We stand on the brink of the unknown, our vision swallowed by the blackness of an uncertain future. I like to speak into the darkness, i like to ask it questions, i like to scream into its belly. But all that answers me is an echo, an echo off the walls of time. It is not the echo of my voice. It is a wordless vocal, a tongue of many layers, a harp with a thousand chords. No direction, no instruction, just an echo. A beautiful song resounding from the crevises of a land called ‘the future. A land i cannot see. It sings from the corridors of the unfamiliar, traveling from the walkways of wisdom to the ears of the present. My ears. Our ears.
Here we stand on the brink of the unknown……….

-Parcleve

“Esse quam videri” – To be rather than to appear

I asked him: did he pray? He looked around at all the unfinished work in the studio: “These are my prayers”. And he wept.

Suddenly I turned around and she was standin there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
Come in, she said,
Ill give you shelter from the storm.

- Bob Dylan