An adventure in reconnection, renewal, & the Unknown. I. We find our steps, again, in a lacunae ten thousand miles deep by seven years wide, but the same portal sun beckons there to the children of wolves. In the stillness now is not heaviness but a coarse patoi of courage, stumbling on tongue tips of burnt honey. Not an aimless idle, but an inner knowing that an invisible River never ceases, even in yearning, in restless drought, even where aRead More
“Chaos was the law of nature; Order was the dream of man.” –Henry B. Adams Not long after the quieting gauze which the lacunae had thrown over my life had settled, like a scarf placed over a canary’s cage to soothe it’s song into slumber and filling my hours with a strange, paradoxically comforting and agitating hush, the ship righted itself and the terrible beautiful chaos of life came rushing back.
I’m in the lacunae now. The little gap, the bit where the text is missing, where the song stops for an extended period, and everything is hushed, waiting waiting waiting for the return of movement, waiting to see how it plays next. I tell myself that I can enjoy the anticipation, with every kinetic molecule suspended in its cellular matrix, ready to crash into motion with heat and noise. But, oh, I hate it.