♥ {confessional, sweet battle && interrupted thoughts} ♥

no beautiful thing lasts.

(posted on Monday, December 7 by eii wyy nae.)

through the night, the wind howled & whistled for attention. i gave it my attention but that wasn't enough. happily waking & seeing through the cracked pane of glass that frames the view from my bed. a late winter moon still high in the sky.

last night the wind & rain together blew, the wall-curtains rustled in their winter song. the candle died, the water-clock was exhausted, i rose & sat, but could not be at peace. man's affairs are like the flow of floodwater, a life is just like floating in a dream. i should more often go drunken through the country, for otherwise i could not bear to live. it sometimes helps to rise above as much of what we know as "it all" as is possible. the rewards are often short & just as often quickly forgotten. but the feeling of release from the tangled webs of daily life is palpable & healing.

the morning roofs are painted pure white with frost. the skies are clear as pale blue water. with the front windows open, i can hear the rustling of leaves racing by. there's beauty. fleeting beauty.

i cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts. the field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the broken hearted girl of the year, the taker of all pain. the northwest wind comes & the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind & the old things go, not one lasts.

the bike rides have been cold. not freezing cold but a little frosty some mornings - puddles frozen into ice, even snowy. so i hope you don't mind a little slide back in time to winter. i saw a little boat lying. so still was the water here, that the boat needed no fastening.

it lay as if someone had just stepped ashore & would in a moment return. but as there were no signs of presence, no track through the thick bushes & moreover as i was in fairy land where one does very much as he pleases, i forced my way to the brink, stepped into the boat, pushed it, with the help of the tree-branches, out into the stream, lay down in the bottom & let my boat & me float whither the stream would carry us.

i seemed to lose myself in the great flow of sky above me unbroken in its infinitude, except when now & then, coming nearer the shore at a bend in the river, a tree would sweep its mighty head silently above mine & glide away back into the past, never more to fling its shadow over me. i fell asleep in this cradle, in which mother nature was rocking her weary child & while i slept, the sun slept not, but went round his arched way. when i awoke, he slept in the waters, i went on my silent path beneath a round silvery moon.

sadly, not at all what it is possible to do now. it is time to shiver & get back inside & stay there. the mud is ankle-deep, summer is far away. the pleasure are different ones, a glass of a warming brew & a book come to mind now. but i can just imagine watching the branches & the sky float by above while being cradled, hearing the water lap against the side.

~~~