Night Writing-II

Night writing-II-                             

I, becomes we

Conflagration

Transformation                      

What happens to the wood?

How does two become one?

I punctuate. I laugh. I giggle from within.

What is that?

Why do cats purr?

What is laughter?

The eruption and release.

What is it about the tug on the line that thrills?

The thrill of the chase. The chase is on.

Is it the connection? The engagement.

What is it that makes me want to engage?

Tension

Release

Friction

Tension

Release

This could go on for hours.

This could go on for days.

This could go on for weeks.

Endlessly, perhaps more, if the fire is hot and the fuel is there.

Have you seen lava flow?

What kind of all-consuming heat, is at the core?

Is that impossible heat, light?                                             

Are we stardust?

Ashes to ashes.

But where do the ashes come from?

The chicken and the egg.

We, came together.

Force meets force.

Conflagration.

Transformation.

Yes, I seek conflagration.

it is my nature.

What is gravity?

Is it that which holds us back.           

Is it gravity that holds me back; or

is it grace?

Twas grace that taught soul to fear. And grace my fear released. The hour I first believed.

The moment the leaves on a tree turn green. I was there. The leaves were full of budding color, brown, yellow, orange, budding color. I closed my eyes for a moment in prayer, opened them and the tree was transformed. The leaves were green. It may have been my eyes adjusting to the light. But it was green. It was not and then it was.

I walked down from the hill. I lay down and rolled on the ground and on the ground, was thyme. I breathed in thyme. It was thyme, quite literally, on my side. I laughed. I got up, walked down further and came out beyond the trees edge and into an open field. I call this field “the sound of music”. I walked up to a point and stopped as I saw the white horse. He looked up. The horse looked up but not at me. Not at my three dogs. He looked up and over. I followed his gesture and there in the mornings lifting mist were three deer. They looked in my direction. I looked towards them. The horse was still. I was still. The three dogs were still. The three deer were still. I was momentarily frozen in the moment. I felt myself breath and thought. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. This is happening. I continued to breathe, wondering what now? I glanced at the white horse. He gestured again with his head. I followed his gesture. I looked at the deer as they gave a final glance, turned and they and their white tails disappeared into the woods. It was like the baseball players going back into the cornfield in the movie. Field of Dreams. Form turning to mist. Wood to flame. Heat to ash. I took a deep breath. Turned, looked at the horse and walked out of the field off the hill back into the woods and on with my life, transformed.

What makes a flame seem eternal? What primal fire is it we see? And what is that primal tension, friction and release we seek. That pulsing, passion seeking forever to be in the moment of union. That welding and melding that moment when the paint and canvas come to life. The blood pours on the knife. That exhaustion and renewal of life.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Tension

Release

The tug on the line

The creation of one from two

From many one

Birth of a nation

Birth

Creation

Birth.

Which came first the chicken or the egg.

All I can tell you is they both lit up after.

They needed a smoke. They were smoke

Inhale

Hold

Exhale

Repeat