Unlived landscapes that are unfamiliar. How is the miracle to be performed where it's hidden, where no-one knows?
In the pre-dawn the moon fell into dark clouds rising over its floodlit. Whiteness dipping in and out of black veils.
Later striations like shredded tendons grazing the moon; in the distance dark thundering clouds of muscle.
Then, stillness. Mist, veils of light, white-gray, bright, shadowless. Obscuring the upper atmosphere, upper stories gone, the unshadowed light, stark clarity to everything below, where we are.
I wait. Navigation that should have didn't fit; I am lost. A familiar cycle, yet the drives and their effects, different. What I saw in the shadowless clarity was a map that wasn't grid-based. When evening came it became a moonlight of mist clinging to the falling leaves I pass under.
In the beginning of the turn-around, a fragility of time. Take me slowly through the awakening. I am unfamiliar.
The remnants of the Summer's heat when a harvest moon the colour of apricots rose, and the feasting of Thanksgiving to come round the overlaid table, at the mid-point of the equinox, a cold front came and the weather turned towards the new season of the year.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
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