To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. From ‘Auguries of Innocence’, 1803 An unfurled question mark answers the point where our infinity begins. Standing on the beach, studying the way the sea greets the horizon, the way the clouds pour out in smoky angles as it created at the edge of the world. Cracks in the clouds creating all kinds of layers and moments of illuminations; shafting bolts of light and spreads of gloom. No wonder William Blake stood here at Felpham and thought the sea was talking to him. Illusions of sunlight and wind singing and cloud play must have fluttered through his imagination. This is one of those seemingly unremarkable, passable places where Human and Nature can face each other, taking turns to speak and listen. Looking at this horizon you can sense the world turning under you. The tides tug at the feeling that you are a part of something grander but also indifferent; ancient and renewed every day, beyond and before human. The waves swirling, pounding, reeling back over and over again. A swell and release that cleanses buzzing minds. A gift that is unknown in its giving. That mourning cry of the gulls is a rallying call for your memories, a reminder that you have stood here many times before. Going backwards, you understand it less and less but enjoy it more and more; back to a happy childhood scrabbling around on the beach with no concepts of horizons and hunger. Just building model fortresses with a material worn down from ancient rock over millennia of wind and water. Dredging out canals and fighting the inevitable swell of sea water - human versus nature, a slowly but happily losing battle. What the sea takes, it will give back tomorrow. Here on the horizon a line being drawn between the time before I stood here and the now. The now being stretched to almost infinity, suggesting so in the shallowest of curve. The future remains uncertain, questionable and unnecessary. The horizon is enough.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorA poetic-essay style blog with a limit of 365 words. 365 like the days of the year - my name being one of those days! Archives
March 2020
Categories |