Daydreaming. Playing with time.
Came to haunched in front of one of my many old bookcases.
(I love the way the sun slices off the San Gabriel mountains and honefies the whole room).
The light insistent. Urgent.
Like I'm standing with one hand on my frigidaire. Hmmm... what am I in the mood for?
And the cold, unblinking light says - make up your damn mind.
Okay. So what was I looking for exactly? Not something to read. Plenty there. Buddhism, poetry, philosophy, Beachy novels, yadda yadda yadda.
No. Actually, what I was looking for was God.
Late on a Spring afternoon. A little tired, out of "stuff" - what else would be on my agenda?
So. - that pretty much opens up the whole shebang - God being everywhere 'n all.
Here is what I pulled from the "grab bag". (Improv, if you're into it).
Is this God?
"Something I saw, or thought I saw
In the desert at midnight In Utah,
Looking out of my lower berth
At moonlit sky and moonlit earth.
The sky had here and there a star;
The earth had a single light afar,
A flickering, human, pathetic, light,
That was maintained against the night,
It seemed to me, by the people there,
With a Godforsaken brute despair.
It would flutter and fall in half an an hour
Like the last petal off a flower.
But my heart was beginning to cloud my mind.
I knew a tale of a better kind.
That far light flickers because of trees.
The people can burn it as long as they please;
And when their interests in it end,
They can leave it to someone else to tend.
Come back that way a Summer hence,
I should find it no more or less intense.
I pass, but scarcely pass no doubt.
When one will say, "Let us put it out."
The other without demur agrees.
They can keep burning as long as they please.;
They can put it out whenever they please.
One looks out last from the darkened room
At the shiny desert with spots of gloom
That might be people and are but cedar,
Have no purpose, have no leader.
Have never made the first move to assemble,
And so are nothing to make her tremble.
She can think of places that are not this
Without indulging "Not for Us!"
Life is not so sinister-grave.
Matter of fact has made them brave.
He is husband; she is wife.
She fears not him, they fear not life.
They know where another light has been,
And more than one, to theirs akin,
Burt earlier out for bed tonight,
So lost on me in my surface flight.
This I saw when waking late,
Going by at a railroad rate,
Looking through wreaths of engine smoke
Far into the lives of other folks".
Robert Frost.
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