Poem written early this morning. Later, in Blue and blue and blue the Oracle picked up the same images and gave them a slightly different interpretation. And again, a painting by Odilon Redon illustrates it.
These long, languid days of relentless blue,
slow moving as the sluggish stream,
that flow one into another seamlessly
stitched with the hot breath of invisible night,
hurtle into oblivion,
a morass of dead moments,
molten and merging into gold,
slipping like quicksilver from the tightest grasp.
Time pours silently over the edge
with the places we never visited,
the unknown cloaked in the mists of intrigue,
the pebble dropped into the bottomless pool,
comet-rushing, the slow days that seem to drag,
dead march, strike sparks from our flying heels.
23 thoughts on “The slow rush of the comet”
Sadly I have seen neither hide nor heel of the comet 💜
I think it’s cometted off now.
Yes it had 😳😣
😉 As long as they will stay far away from the earth, i will be happy.
Yes, I agree!
Beautiful imagery. I particularly like the last two stanzas. We both had color today–and I was seeing a lot of blue at the riverside this morning. I’ll have to check out your other one now.
thank you! The idea of colour seems important at the moment, and they all seem to converge in blue.
Same here, and I’m not sure why.
I might ask the Oracle tomorrow 🙂
I was thinking of doing the same thing–or maybe Monday.
You shouldn’t really have to tell me things like that. I tend to expect it already 🙂
Hahahaha. I know! I was kind of thinking out loud. 😏
I know 🙂
Of course you do.
Comets are fast (stars, too), yet they look so still in the sky. That’s a great paradox to depict. Everything merges and then runs into oblivion as you say. Makes existence seem wise, slow, and inevitable.
Maybe it’s just a sign of getting older, but even the lazy days seem to fly by.
This also could be a companion to my whale. I like this blue. So many places left unvisited–and yet they are never completely lost. (K)
There are dozens of places I have said at one time, I would like to visit. Now it doesn’t seem necessary. Like the tourists who touch the fish on the market. Seeing is believing; touching is true experience. I don’t think so.
There is usually more than enough right where we are.
When you take the trouble to look closely, there’s usually enough material for interest within walking distance.