The approach of a mans life out of the past is history, and the approach of time out of the future is mystery. Their meeting is the present, and it is consciousness, the only time life is alive. The endless wonder of this meeting is what causes the mind, in its inward liberty of a frozen morning, to turn back and question and remember. The world is full of places. Why is it that I am here?--Wendell Berry
Accidents of Birth
--William Meredith
Spared by a car-or airplane-crash or
Cured of malignancy, people look
Around with new eyes at a newly
Praiseworthy world, blinking eyes like these.
For I have been brought back again from the
Fine silt, the mud where our atoms lie
Down for long naps. And Ive also been
Pardoned miraculously for years
By the lava of chance which runs down
The worlds gullies, silting us back.
Here I am, brought back, set up, not yet
Happened anyway.
But its not this random
Life only, throwing its sensual
Astonishments upside down on
Bloody membranes behind my eyeballs,
Not just me being here again, old
Needer, looking for someone to need,
But you, up from the clay yourself,
As luck would have it, and inching
Over the same little segment of earth-
Ball, in the same little eon, to
Meet in a room, alive in our skins,
And the whole galaxy gapping there
And the centuries whining like gnats
You, to teach me to see it, to see
It with you, and to offer somebody
Uncomprehending, impudent thanks.
Accidents of Birth
--William Meredith
Spared by a car-or airplane-crash or
Cured of malignancy, people look
Around with new eyes at a newly
Praiseworthy world, blinking eyes like these.
For I have been brought back again from the
Fine silt, the mud where our atoms lie
Down for long naps. And Ive also been
Pardoned miraculously for years
By the lava of chance which runs down
The worlds gullies, silting us back.
Here I am, brought back, set up, not yet
Happened anyway.
But its not this random
Life only, throwing its sensual
Astonishments upside down on
Bloody membranes behind my eyeballs,
Not just me being here again, old
Needer, looking for someone to need,
But you, up from the clay yourself,
As luck would have it, and inching
Over the same little segment of earth-
Ball, in the same little eon, to
Meet in a room, alive in our skins,
And the whole galaxy gapping there
And the centuries whining like gnats
You, to teach me to see it, to see
It with you, and to offer somebody
Uncomprehending, impudent thanks.
For the dreams of the weed king, we all sing
I'm very into the GbV box-set right now