Sunday, July 10, 2011

So quiet in here

There was a Time, before memory, when all forms shined in the cool splendor of the distant stars.

There was a Time in which life swam toward shallow ledges and broken rock, seeking nourishment in that which moves slowly. 

That was a Time before words, before cave sites and grave sites, before starving masses, buddhas, and Ish.

Mediterranean France

Sarasota, Florida

Time was something like that, Johnny, as I walked across the tight-fitting red bricks you laid here just last year, or so it seems.

That was a slow Time, a time when you and I wore saffron robes and swam strongly toward the cracks heeding our lust for one more day.

~ ~ ~

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