More shepherds, fins, spirals. More prayer. Today's text was drawn from pages 424-425 of the desktop encyclopeida,current to cuttlefish.
Realm of bruising, realm of prayer
Revolving, with little direction from the rider, prayer flies in suspended facets, a form that repeats and repeats and thus encloses without ending. The precise value can be thought of as music, a circle of infinite radius, or wheel born in crystal and timber, a path of custard apples. In the 25th dynasty, a shepherd perfects the curvature, a bright arc of defiant movement. Mortality spirals like a fin, falls in ornamental folds, layering myth and taboo with its warm, moist sand. Calculation strikes at common lures—small, cusped arches of the necessary. A pretty face. Change derives from effort to cut (isolate) the principle from its containing shell, from infatuation, from this notion of best fit. The realm of bruising ellipses the territory of the curtained bed, the procedures and techniques that allow union. Segments of light, linked end to end, can reach the roots of the herd. Spirals, suspended and spanning the yellow glass of moon, may not reenter a shepherd or saint. More exact, the three lobes of mortality limit precise value to tracery. In the end: a cup, a bird, a table, a pattern within an idea, our ornamented leaves. These are the only miracles.
Lovely image by rbaez, Ricardo Baez-Duarte, via Flickr.
