Last week I sat on my dorm-room floor and felt the cold linoleum fall away, revealing a deep valley, blanketed in green and weeping like the land all around Geiranger seemed to weep, all wet rocks and waterfalls and mists and impossible blue and green. For a moment I swayed, overwhelmed by the vision alone.
But it needn't be so profound, nor so imaginary. I look to the details.
I look up
See
Impossible angles
Highways
In the branches of trees.
I have been dreaming of Finland in summer. It must be the weather. Summer in Finland is some kind of paradise - the freedom of summer without it's heat, the crisp incredible perfection of spring without the scourge that keeps its joy from me.
And these few days, sandwiched between days of clouds and wind and rain, these few perfect days... they fill the air with helpless delight, and make the details shine like jewels, so that they are barely even hidden.
When the wind blows on the water,
gently,
and the sun shines through...
Can't everyone see
The world beneath the water?
There are forests, under the creek
In the middle of downtown.
The water is like a mirror, and it's coolness calls to me even on a spring day just warm enough to make you want to stretch on the rocks and smile.
I put my face in the water, staring out over its clear, mirror surface.
It embraces me, and I find another acceptable end. The one from His Dark Materials. Heretical, maybe, but nevertheless I can imagine that it might not be so bad, might not be the worst possible end... To have our consciousness drift apart, and our particles become part of everything alive again...
I think I could live with that. Die with that.
The cool wind blows and the world is filled with light, so beautiful.
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