Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Worth all of Time itself The sky's gone black; my firmament lies lifeless, an expanse as still as ice, as slow as rock. I've looked for you in every hidden spot, listened to each atom's gossip. I've searched in the folds of Time where yesterdays touch tomorrows, where they make todays worthwhile. Your salty taste, your musky smell would guide me to you, if Nothingness had senses. If I could conjugate the tense of longing, if evidentials revealed only truth, in truth, I'd rue the day I made you leave, banished you to recesses of what-was and what-could-never-be, so unaware that everything alive lives only in the present. What present could you give to me worth all of Time itself? Light a light! Torch a star! That I may find you. © Kåre Enga [30.november.2016] |