Everything takes on a bluish hue,
Or is it orange?
Clouds gather 'round their sun
Conveying it down.
Some things disappear
To be suddenly seen again;
Not dark enough for light.
Slowly the layers of color converge into one band:
Darkest, deepest blue.
The clouds no longer need usher
So they scatter;
Winds blow the clouds
And swirl down to the trees.
Many lights appear:
Some small and far away,
Some large and close at hand.
The sounds of silence are heard
As trees sing and winds blow.
Several hours of such elapse
Until. . .
Barely audible there is a sound,
A low roar—
Or is it absolute silence?
It grows louder as clouds gather 'round their sun
Conveying it up.
The roar grows, crescendos,
Yet I think I never really hear it.
That which disappeared
Is suddenly seen again.
Slowly the layers of color converge into one band:
Lightest, palest blue.
And the roar of silence is replaced by the roar of day.
Oh, how I wish to be free from this temporal beast!
It steals my days,
It steals my life away.
What do you mean? “It is my life.”
Can this be life?
Days running away,
Running away.
I just want time so I can stop and see,
I just want eyes to see.
Is this too much to ask:
That I have time
And eyes
And freedom to be still?
Oh, how I wish to be free!
What a marvelous texture has
The sky
Held
Within its grasp.
The sky owns the texture;
The texture binds the sky,
It does not matter.
The bumps and scratches,
Blemishes—
The perfect imperfections
Of a spring evening.
There was a rainbow in the sky,
Though sun was hid and rain fell not—
The clouds themselves did bear the drops
Of crystal that did shine.
It did not stretch across the sky;
It was not brilliant in its broken light;
But small and simple, elegant it shone.
There was a rainbow in the sky,
Set in a fluffy snow-white cloud
For just a moment or a few.
And this I saw
And thanked my God:
His promise remains when sun is hid
And rain falls not.
The sky is green—
Not just any green:
An aqua/turquoise green.
Not the light blue of the day;
Not the dark blue of the night;
Not the yellow of the sun that's set—
But somewhere,
Somewhere
In between.
The sky is green—
Not just any green:
A “nothing-else-matters-except-for-this-moment” green.
Not the moment before;
Not the moment after—
But somewhere,
Somewhere
In between.
As am I.
To think on that great distance
That separates two stars,
Two cells:
That great nothingness
That separates in infinite multiplicity,
In countless fractions;
To know that worlds, baryons,
People
Can never touch—
But no matter how great the distance—
Must interact;
To see the protons hurled into my eyes
By some great force so far away,
So long ago:
I see, I am influenced
But I shall never know.
Though I may never touch another soul
May my influence be as noble,
As far-reaching,
As eternal.
Darkness sweetly hovers,
Suspending life in space and time,
And making what light there is
Much brighter.
Like “wanderers,” the distance suns
Seem unchanging, sure and fixed,
Yet fly away so swiftly
Producing light and bending time.
So I stand in this moment, transfixed
By an illusion of what once existed,
Dreaming of what is to come when
We are free of time and space.