I sit here at the picnic table on the square and let my pen pray
As I hold my face to the light, letting the sun warm me,
Letting the brightness fill me, letting the beauty rise up
And overflow, spilling carelessly where it will in extravagant
Heaps and piles. After all, compared to my small life,
The sun is an inexhaustible source, indiscriminately flooding
The universe with light, a fiery lesson in how to live.
October 19, 2009
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6 Comments:
spilling carelessly where it will in extravagant heaps and piles....
Magic.
Does your pen pray to the great inkflinger in the sky?
By the way, I like the ambiguity of the title. It is clear from context which sense you intend but I enjoy picturing someone meditating while on the surface of the sun. Right in the source of the beauty
Bob--Thanks.
Den--First of all, I don't know; my pen can't talk. Secondly, I'm curious. When you picture someone meditating while on the surface of the sun, do you picture them being vaporized or do you just picture blackness because you were blinded by staring at the sun?
Don't worry, I always turn down the sun when I imagine it. It would be a shame to blind oneself by imagination. I thought about the vaporization thing, and what I picture is some kind of diamond buddha sitting in the sun. It is not a very realistic image, but one I enjoy.
Cool. I'll have to try that turning down the sun thing. I'm very fair-skinned, you know.
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