Vision

I cannot live without vision. Call it weakness if you want, but without vision, my soul stops breathing, seals itself in an airtight container to die. I need vision. I need to see.

And what do I see when my soul opens its eyes?

Some times snow. Last night, it was snow, flooding over the horizon from a different realm. Snow like heaven. Snow like angels. I stood up to see it better. I stood tall and stretched out my hands toward the surreal, the sublime. Snow came in shafts, in drafts, while I stood and felt the four winds rise, heard the crescendo of an enormous hidden whisper.

Some times it is rain... one thousand dark and silvery breathings, lapping in and out of the abysmal, ancient earth.

Some times it is light... a fullness of opalescent, white-hot presence, blazing cool and gentle through the east until the sleeping song awakens and the universe is on fire.

Do you see these things? The sights beyond sight that seep through the structures of seeing...