Why are they moving so damn fast? How to describe their speed, streaming across the sky already-time-lapse. Moon resolute, moon standing tall in power stance, humble power, you agglomerate space rocks, reflect sunlight for nearly eternity, good knowing of all gods.
Oh, yes, now I remember, the phrase, the turn of the thing. The word. Now I know again.
The thing of that.
And how fast are they streaming across moon space, right above tree tops. More, though, than find the phrase for the thing of that, what else is there to consider when the clouds move the moon that way?
Nothing else for the hour, nothing the day, all of life streaming moisture in our sky, playing with light, toying with our reality. Why would you consider anything else standing there? Give that scene your you. Ness. Soul belief declaring universal dream.
Sometimes, oftentimes, we forge onward with only a sliver of knowing
what might be there, a tiny inkling, or blindly groping, eyes closed, unhearing, moving forward down the cave,
knowing, absolutely knowing, that the sliver turns into massive, to the oak and idea tree, to the beyond you and all of me, to beyond, see I it. Only a fragment of light, follow, let guidance in your heart show you greater radiance. Follow the small indication, the slight, and the rush is adventuring from narrow to wide, following small clues, knowing they’ll lead us where or what, have no idea; but knowing that we’ll find the luminous brilliant thing. That process the rush. The high. Finding or being found, as we move forward, blazing, into the light.
I swear I know you’re there. Swear it. Follow me there. Can see you now. Such a small piece of you. And that’s enough. I’m coming that way. My narrow and my wide.
Photographs RISD Museum in triptych for the final wall. As regards the already knowing and seeing above. The path toward the light. The path from whence we’ve come.
Our journey already. Here we see the glow. The I Am. From there to here, we are. Standing with the shot, facing that way, seeing a sharp shard of light, like glass extending into the distance. Or the path we’re walking, facing that way, the road narrows and disappears. What will we find there? That miracles exist to discover and be discovered and spirit discovers us? What’s over the horizon, following this light? We can’t know, but here we are. Flashes of luminescence in darkness. Showing us the way. Lightning bolts. Humans love. Birth and sun. Our journey through the shadow of doubt and darkness, yet we remain on the pilgrimage, our odyssey always a miracle, the point of day, the current hour. Moving, light bends over there, begins its path away, outwardly curving, returning to complete the circle. We are the steady lambency, we are time. we are love. We see birth, we see death, we see variability. Magma, earth, piercing. Arrows of fire toward ourselves, direct connection to the One, holy, understanding. We are, and we reach from shadows toward golden promise. We live as the promise. We live the truth of our light. We garner our understanding, merged with belief, and maintain. For the sake of beauty, of love, and of life.
