Shadow fancies

Another day of unbroken reality. Each moment coagulating from the wound of morning, I woke in the dark to see the sun. It never disappoints. Unmistakable dawn. It doesn’t matter that today in its fresh promise it appears to be an orange with sections missing, simmering. I inhale a daily brew.

But before I knew you, there were such things that attached themselves to me like shadows, leaning lean across my thoughts. Nothing that I couldn’t handle with gloves, as long as I didn’t watch what I was doing. To touch life at all is to be burned, purely, not even smoke but a bright lighting of our intentions.

***

Gleanings

“It’s our knowledge of death that makes us pray. Every path a child takes looks precarious to the parent’s eye. And it is, and 'precarious' is an old word that means ‘full of prayers.’” – Michael Meade

“If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves and of threatening ourselves with death.” – Pablo Neruda

“Many surrealists were attracted to Mexico because of its mix of ancient culture, volcanic landscapes, and absurdist humor. French surrealist writer André Breton declared Mexico the “surrealist country par excellence.” – Wall Street Journal

***