Everything you say matters. Each word a pebble in the cosmic lake. Each ripple lapping shore. The eye sees no change. But those few molecules washed from moor, taken from sun to shade, of root less rooted, of salamander quenched. They know. The universe is nothing if not a great accounting, endless pristine spreadsheets, forever calculating.
Don't believe me? Then run. Go. And when you can run no further, where are you?
You see Kyra, a thing cannot escape from itself. And there is only one thing. Only one universe.
_________
Von, you know what I could never reconcile? My parents. On the one hand, they understood this principle better than most. Their whole life was spent studying the minute changes of clime and climate and they knew the disastrous affects of even the smallest changes. And then, there was me. How could they not know of the ecosystem of me in their world? To see so clearly in one direction and be so blind in another. I think Papa spent his life trying to make amends, a father for the son, healing two in the act of one.
2 comments:
I may be wrong, but to my recollection this is the first time that Kyra has expressed this thought, as it is, simple, straightforward and bewildering, alone I mean. I feel quite touched and honored to be listening, and not as though we are intruding - she has grown, learned, is different than she was, perhaps it is John, perhaps she has more understanding for the complexities of nature, although she will never be able to reconcile the two, she seems accepting, more than before, of that inability...perhaps...
Everything matters. May we all be blessed to remember this truth at all times.
Wherever you go. And yet some will try and try and run again. I love the phrasing, I love the truth, simply I love Each word a pebble
I think you're right. This is the first time we've heard directly from Kyra on the issue of her parents. Even after all these years and all that has happened, the stain of childhood remains as perhaps the strongest and indelible of our memories. No adult experience has shaped me more than those of my childhood. The hand of a parent is really the hand of God.
Post a Comment