the sea and the black

Swimming through the thickness of July (sweat, rippling folds of carbon dioxide, waves of light and sound, the little bits of smog that stick to the cilia in your lungs) seems endless to most.  In my own heart however, I feel the tension of changing seasons.  Just beyond my physical horizon is the redness feared by sailors of old.  The trees resonate my dread.  An 800yr old live oak I climbed a week ago sang to me,

“wind and sleet consistent as sunset

days of slate sky turn to years

nights swallow and solitude consumes

men like leaves wither

dew collects and fog creeps

i am awake while the whole sleeps”

Holding to its bark my eyes cloud and I can see for centuries.  My grip becomes panicked  as I feel the earth tilt and slow it’s rotation.  Here and the hereafter are merging day and night as we move farther from the sun.  Thousands of feet of ice will coat the artifacts in my home.  Eternity will see us floating towards the black, gasses will trail for miles as our orb molds to oval and holds it’s velocity perfectly in vacuum.  While somewhere beyond this sea, I will stand and watch myself through the screen of a digital camera and with an uncanny sense of deja vu, plan my next trip to the ocean.

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