at the stretches / vast edges of the universe touching blurry cusps of existence life wriggles from behind a telescope and sits down at the desk to write. in this moment evidence of a beauty (who has gone away.) bending with the curve of time. the secrets of the moon.
she has these dark eyes black like night black like the painted canvas black like the unlit stage where the moon dances shines glows black like a sheet pulled over your nose somehow darkness moving a fragility a place, a time before the universe was born moon the desert landscape the lustre of 1/8 of a candle yet in this night even a sliver is brighter than all the stars a silver slice of a more magical being
everything has its moment and in mine i'll swim, swim, swim, u n t i l i drown drown drown
We’ve just had Daylight Savings Time and I’m thinking about just that (time) as I watch “Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman.” I love Morgan Freeman and I want to be him and do what he does: embody curiosity and wonder – for both are what make us young, wise, and humble. Ponder this: a clock does not change time, but measures it. We may use a clock to help us understand time but only by how we notice the clock changing over time. But we can also rely on our sense of timing and time by the way we feel the difference of things: the passage of subtle, slow-moving yet powerful micro/macro-scopic change. We feel the moments no less than the minutes. Maybe all we feel are the moments…and the minutes are simply a collection of rain drops to say it has rained 3,805,118,976,114,123,446 drops in this moment, but say nothing of the 5 million flowers bloomed. Time is our sense of order in a free and random chaos that is life in the universe. Our higher order thought amidst the lower order playing field. And our game of fun is to forget we know any better.