The sweetness of being.
Perhaps it is the sweet fresh juice of the apple trickling as you are biting. Or the perfect lace of snow on the branch. Or the sudden surprise of soft vivid irises reaching upwards. Or the scent of hyacinths in a summer breeze. Or the herald of choral clouds across the skyscape at sunset...
The sweetness of being, found in bliss.
The sweetness of being, the impetus to do, to be more than.
It is sensual, primal, almost visionary, the way bliss passes across us like a caress of warm sunlight.
And we, evolved, reservoirs of memory, mind, feeling, and sensation, who crawled out of the ocean eons ago and flew in light-footedness across the landscape and made alphabets out of everything.
Clay, metals, stones, quills, ink, parchment...
And our cornucopias of alphabets: like seeds in the fields growing our food; bricks forming the structures of our houses, cities, civilizations; minerals and metals upholding a superstructure of manufacture and energy; and our even breaking the codes of the alphabets of the molecules dancing and composing the universe...
Us filling our vast created cosmos with an interlacing calligraphy of alphabets, such sweetness of being.
You who come by, charms of bliss, having the radiance of angels, elixirs that we are barely aware of.
And I awoke this morning dreaming of calligraphies carved out of sunlight knowing that was it.
No comments:
Post a Comment