Sky makes the scene believable.
Twice the proportions, twice the ice,
At 500 ft, the symmetry
Is the god of piercing blue,
The deity of lonesome liquid,
Pure white and yet sad color
In the cold, in the heart
Of the glacier, and its eyes.
The giant is a testament,
(as giants go: O Goliath)
To be tumbled, to be relieved
Of air in the ice ridden lungs,
Of this temporary hugeness:
A ship of David’s wonder
Who they truly are.
The water, a life outside of pain,
Remembering where a cell rose,
Constant, from one bay to the next,
From one detached chunk on its way
To miracles, to sea homes
Lost in multiple vastness,
In vestibules of cold. Two worlds
Joined under one frozen
Identity; chunks of personality.
(The ones in the know think of
Europa; how close we are, how
Solid the frigid possibilities.)
It is everything
Movable, immovable
And indifference to motion,
Meropia in the moment,
A prayer to see, touching
What is wide but, too, beyond it.
And where are the ones not here?
Alive in the vision:
Eternity as a painting: art to imbibe
Lamont Palmer
Daily Quote: “If there are so many seekers, why are there so few finders?”
-- Eckhart Tolle
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