Rib of the Earth, a granite dome protrudes From desert sand. Its shadow arches high Against the night. Above it, stars exude Their spidery threads of light to web the sky, Building a dome concentric with the first: A conjugate mirror of the curving rock. Both shells stand parallel, but each reverse In substance from its twain. To interlock These disparate realms would seem to be a feat Impossible. Can Heaven marry Earth? How may Ideal consort with the Concrete? What child would such unnatural union birth? To answer, look more closely at the edge Between the land and air. Atop this arc One tiny figure stands upon a ledge, Tensing to jump. An angel? Beast? The dark Obscures its face. In which direction will It leap? Upward, to add a shy new voice Of meaning to the night? Or down the hill Again? A universe awaits the choice. |
Tuesday, April 03, 2001 at 05:46:36 (EDT) = 2001-04-03
(correlates: Appliances All the Way Down, Face Plant, ArpaNetwork, ...)