I swear to God, the beach tonight was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It was twilight hour: the sky all violet, last light on the horizon. To my right, a sea & stalwart town, stagnant coast, a ferris wheel. To my left, the beam of Atlantic City. So much symmetry: predictable, stable. There comes a point when we can no longer live symmetrically; when no measure of control can shrug the constant, unfamiliar ripple. But there is savior yet: in the path of a monarch, the curl of your hair, the forgiving shoreline that sweeps up & away.
Alfred De Musset wrote, "Perfection does not exist. To understand it is the triumph of human intelligence; to desire to possess it is the most dangerous kind of madness." None has ever reached Shangri La, yet we know its air is fragrant & sweet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment