deep and deeper yet
"The winds and waves," said Gibbon (English historian), "are always on the side of the ablest navigators."
We are staring out at the ocean and that long flat horizon. I know I will take the small crippled canoe and you will take the gleaming power boat across that blue expanse in the distance; I trust you and don't give thought to my precarious dependent position. My canoe is tied to your vessel and I willingly step inside. We are off and speeding. I can see no land in any direction; I'm scared. Everything is suddenly very still and we are coasting without direction, the air is hot and still. We're floating; your boat will go no further and I am tied to you, led helplessly along across the depths under your watch. You keep me always at a short distance away. A few steps ahead of me is how you can be sure I won't escape. You pull me in, in my handicapped canoe, and for the first time, you let me come within striking range, close enough to reach out and touch you. But I don't strike. We're safe at last.
"The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough." -Emerson
I feel empty having written in ugly little words that which has consumed me now for weeks; after all, "words are finite organs of the infinite mind. They cannot cover the dimensions of what is in truth. They break, chop, and impoverish it."
Now what?
deeper and deeper yet, of course.
We are staring out at the ocean and that long flat horizon. I know I will take the small crippled canoe and you will take the gleaming power boat across that blue expanse in the distance; I trust you and don't give thought to my precarious dependent position. My canoe is tied to your vessel and I willingly step inside. We are off and speeding. I can see no land in any direction; I'm scared. Everything is suddenly very still and we are coasting without direction, the air is hot and still. We're floating; your boat will go no further and I am tied to you, led helplessly along across the depths under your watch. You keep me always at a short distance away. A few steps ahead of me is how you can be sure I won't escape. You pull me in, in my handicapped canoe, and for the first time, you let me come within striking range, close enough to reach out and touch you. But I don't strike. We're safe at last.
"The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough." -Emerson
I feel empty having written in ugly little words that which has consumed me now for weeks; after all, "words are finite organs of the infinite mind. They cannot cover the dimensions of what is in truth. They break, chop, and impoverish it."
Now what?
deeper and deeper yet, of course.