Perhaps like light itself – now particle, now wave – the unasked question lives in between, just out of reach, leading us both out into the world and back into the depth of ourselves. Like Parsifal we ride forth, throats dry, with bugs whirring about our heads. We are deeply touched by all we behold, yet unable to say so.
Maybe like a fish in a bowl in a house of cats, we find the roof drops daily incrementally and the world outside the one we know looms closer under the thirst of what drinks from above. No matter how many times we circle the borders, something we hadn’t seen before appears, peers in, disappears.
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I feel compelled to console my goldfish!
ReplyDeleteI would Tess, I would...
ReplyDeleteit's a cat drink fish water world...