from BARDO

The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.

Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made

is star-stuff too?


– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –

dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.


Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.


Roselle Angwin

Sunday 2 December 2012

Perseids


The Lion stretches paws to the edges of the land, roars towards Orion. I so want to be drenched in starlight; imagine finding the timeless in the realm of time. At the stillpoint of the turning world.

Must have been August, full moon, one night in Penwith we took the road that joins shore to moorland and drove through that downpour of falling stars – their lucence against the midnight blue a kind of covenant, a promise. Stop the car, you said, and we climbed and lay on its roof, toes towards the ocean, in a shower of light, shivered into brightness.

Those were the days before the dying started. There are benisons of pain as well as joy.  

I think how easily we forget to look up, remember where we come from, where home lies.
~ Roselle Angwin
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2 comments:

  1. David Ashton3 December 2012 at 07:41

    The days before the dying started ... A never ending mystery how pain and beauty can coexist at the same time. Nice profile pic btw :)

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  2. roselle3 December 2012 at 16:36

    David, thanks for both :-). I wonder whether beauty is as rich and poignant as it is because of death, in fact? - You know, our old mate transience...

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