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Wed 7 Mar, 2007 09:17 pm
And somewhat as in blind night, on a mild sea, a sailor may be made aware of an iceberg, fanged and mortal, bearing invisibly near, by the unwarned charm of its breath, nothingness now reveled itself: that permanent night upon which the stars in their expiring generations are less than the glinting of gnats, and nebulae, more trivial than winter breath; that darkness in which eternity lies bent and pale, a dead snake in a jar, and infinity is the sparkling of a wren blown out to sea; that inconceivable chasm of invulnerable silence in which cataclysms of galaxies rave mute as amber.
Thanks for reading.
You've been reading in Walter's sailor diary again?
"rave mute as amber". Nice. But lonely feeling.
Tai Chi wrote:"rave mute as amber". Nice. But lonely feeling.
That was written from a child's perspective and was meant to be lonely feeling.
Did you write this? (unpublished I mean) Or is it from something that if I was better read I would recognize?
Sorry, there are no pictures in the book.
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