Apr 2020
Surely, this life is but an aberration. For have I not been oblivious to the heraldry of the firmament for far longer than I have craved to acquaint myself with its mystery; of the moon and stars to know their secrets.
Gazing in awe at the doorway to infinity whence I have so recently arrived, it seems unimaginable that I should recollect nothing of the stepping through, the horror vacui of my incarnation, the shuffling forward in the queue.
My existence a blink of an eye; my non-existence the remainder of time.
Is it any wonder - glorying at the night sky - that I am confused as to whether I am on the inside looking out...or the outside looking in?
Gazing in awe at the doorway to infinity whence I have so recently arrived, it seems unimaginable that I should recollect nothing of the stepping through, the horror vacui of my incarnation, the shuffling forward in the queue.
My existence a blink of an eye; my non-existence the remainder of time.
Is it any wonder - glorying at the night sky - that I am confused as to whether I am on the inside looking out...or the outside looking in?
‘For the first forty days a child is given dreams of previous lives. Journeys, winding paths, a hundred small lessons and then the past is erased.’
- Michael Ondaatje, Handwriting
- Michael Ondaatje, Handwriting
