"Come in" she said, "I'll give you - shelter from the storm."
I'd not slept the night (Which was late Sunday into early Monday, where the day rests now. I'd gone into my attic for a cigarette around five in the morning, and saw light beginning to break through the darkness of night. It was that light, and the prospect of the sun rising that inspired me and gave me some spectacular lines of poetry in two different pieces that I'm working on. And I came up with the idea to go for a walk to witness the sun rise, having no other obligations but inspiration and to write poetry. I checked weather dot com and it told me that the sunrise today was to be at 6:06, and I mused to http://trevorfandango.livejournal.com about whether I should merely go for a walk around my neighborhood, or to sneak into Hedden park hoping not to be spotted by a patrolling police officer to watch the sun rising in quiet solitude and abundant natural beauty. And right as I asked him, the answer was obvious, spelled out like I had done. So I hopped into my car, and drove down the road parallel to Hurd park, parked my car in front of somebody's house, and snuck in to Hedden Park through the gap to the left of the fence that's been there for as long as I've known about Hedden Park.
I feel as though, now, I can truly appreciate Romanticism, understanding exactly how the Romantic poets were said to have felt. Below this line lies what I typed to http://trevorfandango.livejournal.com right when I'd returned, after having changed out of my completely soaked clothing.
My God. It was absolutely magnificent, and huge. Life-affirming. The sun didn't rise, there were clouds covering all of the sky. Instead, there was this wonderful light coming through, uniform, lighting the sky, before it darkened, and I was on the top of a rock at the top of a waterfall as the waters raged, during the quiet beginnings of a thunderstorm. And the stream overflowed so powerfully that the water crashing against the rocks could overtake easily thunder rolling. I was caught in the torrential downpour as I walked across the park back to the entrance where I'd snuck in, the only back entrance to the park that I know of. My hair is still dripping wet, after having changed out of my now soaked clothes. I feel as though I have been profoundly affected and changed by what I have seen, that I'll never forget it, after having been baptised by such beauty. The mountains and woods in early spring, completely obscured by mist, the spectacularly vibrant colors that unrepentantly burst through, it was alive, and so effortlessly powerful without being violent. Affecting. Breathtaking. "What a way to start a day." What a way to start a life! To think that so many people will never experience something of that magnitude when it exists and bursts with resplendence all around them, each and every moment is mind blowing. That so many capable might not ever once truly see nature as it is. I look at myself in the mirror, with my drug abused body, lacking in sleep, and my crooked glasses that've seen too many years, hair dissheveled and dripping with the rain of a storm, and face in need of shaving, and feel as though I have been reborn, as though this moment is the first in a new life, that never will I be able to forget and take for granted the magnificence that I will now hold in my heart. The free melody of the water near the docks serving almost as a backbone and the grounds upon which the seemingly random yet perfectly harmonious song of birds waking the world with what they know to be life in all it's splendor has inspired me so much more than I ever thought possible. With all of that so plainly before you, there is not a thing that you can do but fall in love with every blessed thing.
I've just gotten back from giving my sister a ride to school, hair still wet from my first baptism. I've got one poem to transcribe, some work to do on another poem, and I've got to take a shower and prepare myself before my mother and I head to a diner to get some breakfast. She's staying home today because of a doctor's appointment.
There is so much. . .everything in everything.
I feel as though, now, I can truly appreciate Romanticism, understanding exactly how the Romantic poets were said to have felt. Below this line lies what I typed to http://trevorfandango.livejournal.com right when I'd returned, after having changed out of my completely soaked clothing.
My God. It was absolutely magnificent, and huge. Life-affirming. The sun didn't rise, there were clouds covering all of the sky. Instead, there was this wonderful light coming through, uniform, lighting the sky, before it darkened, and I was on the top of a rock at the top of a waterfall as the waters raged, during the quiet beginnings of a thunderstorm. And the stream overflowed so powerfully that the water crashing against the rocks could overtake easily thunder rolling. I was caught in the torrential downpour as I walked across the park back to the entrance where I'd snuck in, the only back entrance to the park that I know of. My hair is still dripping wet, after having changed out of my now soaked clothes. I feel as though I have been profoundly affected and changed by what I have seen, that I'll never forget it, after having been baptised by such beauty. The mountains and woods in early spring, completely obscured by mist, the spectacularly vibrant colors that unrepentantly burst through, it was alive, and so effortlessly powerful without being violent. Affecting. Breathtaking. "What a way to start a day." What a way to start a life! To think that so many people will never experience something of that magnitude when it exists and bursts with resplendence all around them, each and every moment is mind blowing. That so many capable might not ever once truly see nature as it is. I look at myself in the mirror, with my drug abused body, lacking in sleep, and my crooked glasses that've seen too many years, hair dissheveled and dripping with the rain of a storm, and face in need of shaving, and feel as though I have been reborn, as though this moment is the first in a new life, that never will I be able to forget and take for granted the magnificence that I will now hold in my heart. The free melody of the water near the docks serving almost as a backbone and the grounds upon which the seemingly random yet perfectly harmonious song of birds waking the world with what they know to be life in all it's splendor has inspired me so much more than I ever thought possible. With all of that so plainly before you, there is not a thing that you can do but fall in love with every blessed thing.
I've just gotten back from giving my sister a ride to school, hair still wet from my first baptism. I've got one poem to transcribe, some work to do on another poem, and I've got to take a shower and prepare myself before my mother and I head to a diner to get some breakfast. She's staying home today because of a doctor's appointment.
There is so much. . .everything in everything.