This place and its timeless quality
—a postcard-perfect still life—just is,
except that I am in motion
through days half-spent dreaming,
fluidly pouring clear water
from that jug into this:
eternal exchange, inexorable
return to dust from dust.
I came here, initially,
to heal wounds, to staunch
painful flows from a pierced heart,
eager to get on with it— Life!
Yet the longer I stay, the less
it matters.... Not that I don't care
anymore, but in this place
my perspective has changed.
Framed now by this window,
this doorway, all else recedes
into background dabs of colour
that fill in blank spaces.
Life, real and precious,
can be found here
in the quiet moments.
Caressed by the wind,
I am lulled into peace.
I become a canvas,
stretched, primed
and ready.
YOU ARE READING
Into the Blue Black
PuisiA collection of early musings on the nature of the Universe and my infinitesimal part in it.
