Sunday, February 22, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Raindrops, Tobacco, Crumbling
I traveled to Matsushima, and spent a few hours.
It is made up of around 260 small islands, all covered in pine trees, and is home to Zuigan-ji Temple, founded c. 800. The horizon was a uniform gray, and in reflection, so too the sea, only darker.
Such grays flatten perspective and, lacking the sense of depth which light provides, it is only the surface of the eye that sees. Perhaps not even that. Mine was the empty face of the samurai, or the Buddha--experience not possessed, only lived in.
Or perhaps I am wrong. That is only the way it seemed. I miss my friends, but have been buried in the cold long enough to begin to consider it home, and so I begin to forget. My father says a horse that lives in a stable and only comes out to be ridden, thereupon returning to its cell, becomes a dull beast, desiring the cage over all else, not noticing that there is something off to the right of your screen. We gaze unknowingly.
And a PSA that's almost a Haiku:
It is made up of around 260 small islands, all covered in pine trees, and is home to Zuigan-ji Temple, founded c. 800. The horizon was a uniform gray, and in reflection, so too the sea, only darker.
Such grays flatten perspective and, lacking the sense of depth which light provides, it is only the surface of the eye that sees. Perhaps not even that. Mine was the empty face of the samurai, or the Buddha--experience not possessed, only lived in.
Or perhaps I am wrong. That is only the way it seemed. I miss my friends, but have been buried in the cold long enough to begin to consider it home, and so I begin to forget. My father says a horse that lives in a stable and only comes out to be ridden, thereupon returning to its cell, becomes a dull beast, desiring the cage over all else, not noticing that there is something off to the right of your screen. We gaze unknowingly.
And a PSA that's almost a Haiku:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)