A YARDSTICK FOR
BEAUTIFUL THINGS
BEAUTIFUL THINGS
My Morgan and my Jaguar, my Bentley and my Porsche.
These are things like the robe of God : sleek and forceful
and strong. I want a million things too, but these are
not among them. What is an object anyway but a
solid and crystallized dream? What kind of world
is this; a world of figments and make-believe.
-
I stand by the water, the river's edge nearby; its
waters roil and swirl, a tidal push of twice a day. There
are tiny, tiny polliwogs, the things of frogs, I think.
Small fish, and big fish, swim around. A few logs
and twigs dip and swoop in the turmoil of water.
I think nothing of it at all.
-
The water runs brown by the edges - tide in and
tide out, the edgeline changes to and for. Water
to mud and water again. A chalice of the Earth.
A holy, important image.
-
Mankind buys time and allegiance; for a day
or a week or a month, There is little else to
do. We are all the waiting we seek for.
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