We imagine there are perilous roads to places of wonder and beauty because we divide our reason and fragment our sight.These roads are neither perilous nor safe; these places are neither beautiful nor otherwise. If these things are said to "be" anything at all, then let us merely call them "temporary" and leave it at that.
As night falls, the ancient lakes come alive, replenished by light and the absence of light. Ubiquitous forms that seem to decorate the day are revealed as vowels and consonants of one primal language earth uses to communicate with sky. The purpose of forms become separated from the names we give them. The symbols dissolve.
Maybe you saw the setting sun turn the rocks to gold.
Maybe I saw something else.
Maybe you saw the setting sun turn the rocks to gold.
Maybe I saw something else.
