At dawn you were riding a hot air balloon
anticipation of beauty and terror
a landscape of vineyards, mountains, houses in cluster and solitary
one thousand, two thousand feet or higher



the perspective became wider, objects became smaller
even at the highest point a limit of what you could see
a grain of sand of reality or imagination
light and vision, dreams
lingering at the threshold of waking
then the balloon descended
restoring a balance,“the gravity of unadorned song”
doesn’t sound “intelligent or coherent”
of “what just vanished, a shadow moving away”.
After clouds lifted you experienced
a brighter morning, an eternal frame of hope
“a line of beauty”, “ a riddle”,
“a beauty wedded to something meaningful”,
“psst, a secret whisper from an alleyway.”
note: the quoted words are from the book. The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt. The story is rich, superb.
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