Fire and water in balance, in communion: flames and waves in
equal measure.
It is a painting, or a mantra, a prayer or jubilant ecstasy.
Sometimes it is the desperate sign of toxins in the
atmosphere.
It arrives in patterns, like a carefully woven textile; on other
evenings the sun sets in indecipherable codes, a language known only to mystics
and poets, or to the unordained citizen who courageously listens in humility,
with honesty, with the admission of non-omniscience and the openheartedness of
a babe.
A sunset is the best impromptu art piece but on some
evenings it is a body of work or a movie in motion, apparently different
masters rapidly at work in the heavens.
Existing here is memory or reverie,
hope or faith, a closing down and an opening in paradoxical simultaneity.
It is a song and dance or the vast sigh of grief, a
collage.quilt.montage.potpourri.anthology.medley.ecotone.
The blazingliquidshift oozes and burns its way overhead,
deepening at the horizon into a palpable beating heart.
An organism alive and yet capable of stillness, it reflects
back a perfect mirror of all things innerlandscapey.
It is the expansive certitude of crepuscle and a night to
follow, with the spiraling temporalmotion offering the return.again.soon.
Blessed.glad.euphoric.paradisiacal.rapturous felicityofsunset.
All blog images created &/or photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2014 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
