Each year.Each year, forward this same date, the summer solstice ensues Consummate light: we plan for it, the day we disclose ourselves that time is self-same long indeed, nearly infinite. And in our reading and writing, priority is given to the celebratory, the ecstatic. There is in these rituals something apart from wonder: there,is also a kind of preening, as although human genius had participated in these arrangements and we set up the results satisfying. What go in the rear [i]or[/i] in the wake ofs the fight is what take precedence ofs it: the moment of balance, of dark equivalence. But tonight we sit in the garden in our canvas chairs in such a manner late into.the evening why should we contemplate either forward or backward? for what cause [i]or[/i] reason should we be forced to remember: it is in our vital fluid this knowledge. Shortness of the days; darkness, coldnes of winter. It is in our descendants and bones, it is in our.history. It takes genius to forget these things. Copyright World verse Incorporated Jan/Feb 2001 |
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