michaelboy (
michaelboy) wrote2025-03-09 08:58 pm
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More than All Ever Beauty
Against the Sahara sand
and to its soft conform
the nape, curve and languish
of your smooth skin rests
I held you here - fast
in my heart and in my fancy
and hoped for desert stars
to be whispered as your eyes
Here rests a quiet desire
where beauty is not
by pencil or of powder
but is tendered in morning
This unending moment
more than all ever beauty
is when I helplessly dream
of touching your hair
* * *
Once, in this same mineral Sahara, I was taught that a dream might partake of the miraculous. Again I had been forced down, and until day dawned I was helpless. Hillocks of sand offered up their luminous slopes to the moon, and blocks of shadow rose to share the sands with the light. Over the deserted work-yard of darkness and moonray there reigned a peace as of work suspended and a silence like a trap, in which I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes I saw nothing but the pool of nocturnal sky, for I was lying on my back with outstretched arms, face to face with that hatchery of stars. Only half awake, still unaware that those depths were sky, having no roof between those depths and me, no branches to screen them, no root to cling to, I was seized with vertigo and felt myself as if flung forth and plunging downward like a diver.
But I did not fall. From nape to heel I discovered myself bound to earth. I felt a sort of appeasement in surrendering to it my weight. Gravitation had become as sovereign as love. The earth, I felt, was supporting my back, sustaining me, lifting me up, transporting me through the immense void of night. I was glued to our planet by a pressure like that with which one is glued to the side of a car on a curve. I leaned with joy against this admirable breast-work, this solidity, this security, feeling against my body this curving bridge of my ship.
~ From: Wind, Sand and Stars, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
and to its soft conform
the nape, curve and languish
of your smooth skin rests
I held you here - fast
in my heart and in my fancy
and hoped for desert stars
to be whispered as your eyes
Here rests a quiet desire
where beauty is not
by pencil or of powder
but is tendered in morning
This unending moment
more than all ever beauty
is when I helplessly dream
of touching your hair
* * *
Once, in this same mineral Sahara, I was taught that a dream might partake of the miraculous. Again I had been forced down, and until day dawned I was helpless. Hillocks of sand offered up their luminous slopes to the moon, and blocks of shadow rose to share the sands with the light. Over the deserted work-yard of darkness and moonray there reigned a peace as of work suspended and a silence like a trap, in which I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes I saw nothing but the pool of nocturnal sky, for I was lying on my back with outstretched arms, face to face with that hatchery of stars. Only half awake, still unaware that those depths were sky, having no roof between those depths and me, no branches to screen them, no root to cling to, I was seized with vertigo and felt myself as if flung forth and plunging downward like a diver.
But I did not fall. From nape to heel I discovered myself bound to earth. I felt a sort of appeasement in surrendering to it my weight. Gravitation had become as sovereign as love. The earth, I felt, was supporting my back, sustaining me, lifting me up, transporting me through the immense void of night. I was glued to our planet by a pressure like that with which one is glued to the side of a car on a curve. I leaned with joy against this admirable breast-work, this solidity, this security, feeling against my body this curving bridge of my ship.
~ From: Wind, Sand and Stars, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
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The falling upward reminds of some meditations I play with.
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