At
first, it seems as if I were floating under a luxuriant canopy of
towering trees. When I see the ground, it is still, but all else is in
flux – insects, lizards and snakes stir beneath a carpet of leaves.
The color of the sky changes constantly, the shadows whirl around the
trees, the animals slither and jump everywhere. Yet none notices my
presence; while the animals scuttle amidst a profusion of bushes,
shrubs and grass, they run through me as if I do not exist. Still,
even though composed of nothing more than curved empty space, I am
here.
The memory of the dismal cave dwellers wanes.
Suspended in mid-air by a tree, at the edge of the meadow, an eternal
captive of this beautiful, mad world, I think only of her, of her
songs, of her dances, of her laughter; wherever I look, I see her face
– in the rocks, in the clouds, in spectacular ice formations
resembling waves.
*
I become aware of an unearthly presence, as if something were sighing
inside my head. Recalled to my surroundings, I pay closer attention to
this particular feeling and discover that the forest is haunted. I try
to communicate with these spirits, but they are wild and filled with
hate.
At dusk, the stars come out in the
deep blue darkness while the cries of the
night slayers pierce the night.
After countless seasons, I come to grasp the complexity of this world,
how the creatures balance each other in perfect harmony, stitched
together into the crazy quilt of ceaseless changes, how, over long
periods, their exchanges inspire delicate mutual tunings. Occasionally,
I catch glimpses of invisible hands pulling strings, but, for the most
part, the dancing landscapes evolve spontaneously without any master
choreographer.
While I wallow in misery, the sky opens and the angel slices through
the lifting fog in brilliant gilded diagonals.
He wings down and lands in front of me.