swimming in night

Something comes over me now & again……I want to slip outside, ooze out actually….where I’m not really leaving, I’m disappearing….

Not a morose or dramatic event……just a subtle, grainy, gauzy leave-taking. Like taking on the form of a ghost. Becoming………timeless.

Swimming in the night.

I envision this as walking simulating swimming. A shuffle on cobblestone, a wet fog in my hair, and hands in cool coat pockets.

I’m dreaming. I’m looking in windows.

Attracted to the light, but curled into shadows.

I interpret this as a ‘soul flutter.’ A need for the chimerical openness of a moment. Like I’m searching for the soft lining of night.

The Incomprehensible…..

The Ineffable……

It behooves any of us who would meditate on the subject of artistic inspiration to open the doors wide into the night & welcome into the house the spirit of inhabitable awe…….Edward Hirsch………The Demon & The Angel

That lyrical trance between sleeping & waking where we question & seek & hover between atmospheres…..a beauteous & awestruck moment to embrace….

I sing you, wild chasm, Mountains towered up In nightstorm, You gray towers Brimming with hellish grimaces, With fiery beasts, Bleak ferns, spruces, Crystal blossoms. That you hunt down God, Gentle spirit, Sighing in the cataract, In surging pines……Georg Trakl…..The Night

A place of solace…..the muse is called……