The Cliffs

The light fell out of the seamed sky in halos and cloaks. Squares and circles of light that dropped through the cut clouds and made single sense of all the broken pieces... the land, the sea, man. Your past, your life, not fragments, not fragmented now, but a long curve of movement that you begin to recognize.

Still the light. The light in marvelous fabric, wrapping you, a Quattro cento angel in unwoven cloth. The spear-light unfettered. You begin to sing. You sing from the place that had been marked; the book, the body, the heart. The place where grief had hid, not once, but many times. Your voice now strong and light. The sun under your tongue. A woman of infinite space.

From the cliff, standing with your family you look out, or do you look in? Held in the frame of light, was not the world, nor its likeness, but a strange equivalence, where what was thought to be revealed, and where what could not be known, kept its mystery but lost its terror. You can all see the sea in gold leaf and the purple and pearl of the cliffs. It is not too late.

The majority of things in the world are such, that one would not believe them, if one were told about them. Only those who experience it, believe, but do not know how.....