Cloud and chimera

Pensées hybrides

Fiction (page 2 of 2)

Words and Whispers

Some thoughts on seeing the glacier

(Keeping in mind Keats’s poem “ On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer”)

After twenty days, you feel ready to face the glacier and come to terms with your own barrenness and harshness. At that altitude, no flowers, no birds to comfort you and release you from your existential angst. You must bring enough life in you to stand up to the surrounding desert. Bracing up for an expected fight between darkness and light, fullness and emptiness; your resilience will be tested by a full space of emptiness and void. By your fear of heights, your fear of the fog, your fear of the truthfulness and exposure involved in such an experience.

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Walking to the tune of the moon

The sun is gone, now just a faint yellow blemish in the horizon. The moon is left alone as stage manager.

Piercing eye through the curtain of green.

White moon sitting on top of a snow-capped mountain like some giant Host offering itself to the world.

Pink stage, yellow and orange wings, deep blue proscenium. Then the pink gives way to a darker shade. Orgasmic light over snow shielded peaks. Knights in full armor of beauty and nobility. Spotless sky, pristine evening.

Every night a different show. A miracle of life offered anew to the beholder. Au veilleur.

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