and the deep is an act of the imagination
a hole in the drapery.
I see through a hole the clouds. The enormous volume of these clouds, stretched height and length, give to the panorama an assurance of the land's enormity.
|John Constable, "A Cloud Study, Sunset," ca. 1821.|
The roots underneath and the clouds above and my time as a smeared volume running between.
There is a mereness to the meeting.
We can peek; these the meek scales, these the timings we cannot attain; these are journeys already made, the length which continues
beyond and outside of the seen moment.
Our imagination is continually absconding from the tumult of dimensions, but vastness is the duty of imagining.
Here is the urban drapery.
Here is the studded surface of attentiveness.
The chemical and the electronic gather as the armed do muster in the feld and as castle formed the manor. The robes of the legendary are not long enough to cover our immodest awareness.
Often the shallows are as impenetrable as the deeps.
Often the greatest depths will flit away without note, entirely insubstantial.
Often the surface of a building will stimulate one's memory. Memory is another drapery.
The imaginable shallows are a drapery of heavy grief, sometimes lifted in order to flirt with the disowned and unseen depths.
Vastness is the calling, the horrified call. And response to the call devastates chronological time.
These devastation are moments of transition.
We are in transit.
We are devastated
therefore the drapery has been lifted ruffled cut
and will be therefore
the irruption in moment.
Non-time in time and no-place in this place. Therefore the irruption of moment in moment is this
and this is forever transformative.