Born on a mote of dust
Aloft into a deep blue sky.
High, high , beyond the white performing clouds, beyond the very mystery of the stratospheric jetstream;
Into the deep velvet ethereal zone
Where life cannot exist.

From thence to gaze down at the innocent blue globe, far, far below.
At the swirls and banks of striated cloud, at the deep green of lush field & forest and the tan of dry sandy desert lands.

Oh the spasm of love and longing I feel for my beautiful pristine orb.
The warmth and pride that I am the child of something so wondrously
Perfect and unique.

Momentarily I float in this absynth
Sweet cone of beauty and delusion….

And then I think of my brother man… I imagine all of the scurrying, teeming humanity below, preoccupied with individual importance and absolute deadlines and priorities and the withering urgency to maintain appearance….and the competitiveness and heartlessness which breeds that eternal, savage, ****** awful phenomenon of perpetual warfare!

I turn around …and above, the cold ink void with its myriad pinpricks of white sparkling starlight…A cataclysmic leap through time & space to God knows what….

Can innocence be retrieved from there?


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
5th March 2008