Thursday, November 24, 2011

distance (for the very idea of love)

cresting the once and foreverness, i see inside the view a stillness. it sings with unmoving lips, a song, told on furred tongues, of a time when the ice and the snow was all that was known. it sat and moved in rhythm with the moon. the tidal tongue so deep and long it covered almost all and everything until, receding it revealed a landscape as barren as nothing and so in all conscience it couldn't restrain itself from becoming life in all its rich fullness and it filled everything with the colours and the smells and the textures and the tastes of ripeness and when i came into this place i called my world - or my world as i would come to know it - so many distractions and opportunities and possibilities swirled about, that in their essence i came to know as my world through their little fingers, their small constellations, their bodies that sometimes stood and sometimes ran and sometimes even and especially held me close and so often i think in my head how grateful i am for those brief moments when the very little details of this place revealed something to my becoming self of how the whole is held together and especially how it's represented in the very tiniest way by pieces of wholeness that rise up out of the ground of it all and speak in their own sing-songy way about what matters and what leads to deeper places and especially what holds its form as a way-marker in the journey of my own becoming.


Ruth said...

I travel with you, Steven, through this small and big of your world. there is wholeness in the tiniest things. They restore us, with attention, to wholeness.

steven said...

ruth - more succinctly said than i but i wanted to let the words burst for once!!! steven

joanne May said...

Your words are beautiful. Looking closely at nature can make you feel enlightenment and a deep connection with an a understanding that it all makes sense.

It is lovely to find your blog.

Rachel Fenton said...

So much to wonder at, and feel very small.

erin said...

your words crested the once and foreverness here, steven.

i got to feel this today. we stopped along the highway at a place i've always wanted to look out over but never had. how would i have known there was a tree that was a door to another world? there the tiniest hole of bark unfurling itself from the birch revealed another door, another world. within within within within, always more. and on the top of a distant pine a crow waited, calling to us time to time, to let us know that this world, all of these worlds, were not ours to hold, but his, or so he seemed to tell himself. and even he was wrong.

i love this cresting, steven.


steven said...

joanne thankyou very much! this piece of writing was a little closer to what i write before i pare it down into a little piece of thinking. i left the raw edges there. i'm glad you like it here. so do i!!! steven

steven said...

rachel so very small and then so very large all in the same space. all in the same word for that space. steven