The Myriad and the Particular (3)

from my travel journal, handwritten on the flight south:

We had left the snow-covered earth behind and entered into a dim space above the indistinct but thick fog below, and a cloudy but brighter layer above.

Somewhere, about midway in our journey through this region, we came upon a little atoll of clouds. They were small and delicate and softly reflected the light of the unseen sun, still hidden above yet more layers of fog. These island clouds were bathed in a pale golden light and their tenderness touched something in me so suddenly and unexpectedly that I felt I might weep.

I brought my face close to the glass and looked down on them as if they were a dream of a place I must remember, and then they were gone behind us and their meaning -- in this middle world between fog and obscurity -- also stayed behind. But I continued to ponder them as we climbed out into that upper world, above all the clouds, where the setting sun reigned brightly, finally making himself known.

 

to be continued...

Comments

[Vivian]

Aaaah. Again, you caught it. What we trust you to do, Beth. xx

[Dave]

That's beautiful.