When les hautes alpes du coeur are reached, it is breath-taking. Dawn is opened by the smile across such a sunrise. Watching out above the horizons and never finding forever. The golden sky and the hardened earth close together without a zip, beyond that is the future not belonging to us. Before cet point is a blank plain, the distance of life guided by the stars and our eyes. The discovery propels, then holds us, in the orbit of thought infinitum. As focus awakes, clarity is born to confusion. The stars gave us the tragic capacity for elevation and descent, and while one floats, the other falls. But the equilibrium of balance, why can it provide for juggling tricks and leaning away?
Life staggers as it finds itself on the other side of the range, then distressed rapidly downhill. Like after a balloon touches stratosphere, joy is deflated. It was the mountains and the oxygen forcing the rolling and the popping. Then I made myself tumble, pulling closer to a centre of gravity, familiar places. It is in the stars, ‘Dear Brutus’, they see in our eyes what we want for ourselves. When it is what we received and is more than we hoped, ah, some more can be tempted, to thus be expected. But there is a kiss of death on those juicy lips, expiring a soul as effortlessly as lazy air expelled from the lungs of the same beast.
What happened in September 2008?
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