re-run: 'beauty'
2003-10-29
A new month arises from the dust, seizing September’s sceptre of Spring and granting the season a sanguine glaze. Fruit trees blossom. City streets are turgid green. Leafy Jacaranda tree branches twist towards the impossible blue sky. Timelessness creeps back after Winter’s dragging hold. Violet and blood red flowers; honey sweet nectar. Smelling the air is to be nine years old again, dancing under the sprinkler’s fount and riding a pink bicycle through lazy suburban streets. Bodies respond to the electrified air like flowers, slowly opening themselves to the early rays of the morning sun. Music exists without sound. Music rings through every pore.
Nothing matters more than this. Beauty. Harmony. Answers without questions. Questions without need of answering. What more is there to know than this? I could live with this day forever. This endless evening. Dizzying truth. Spring twilight. This is how I imagine death. An endless image of intrinsic life. Of truly knowing life. What could there ever be in this world to fear? I need nothing beyond this moment.
Still-life perfection. Partner-less love. Unassuming beauty.
The ephemeral window of peace.
