Sunday, July 08, 2012

Sifting through the ether

Sometimes I come upon a paragraph like this and want to jump into another person's brain for a little while so I can feel what it feels like to think a sentence like the first one.

Fortuna's Wheel, it seems, is a chaos-proliferate fractal of perpetual hurt. The fate of others (and ourselves) is providentially unknowable. The present moment opens before us " so astounding to behold that we feel we can go on forever, held in beauty " emboldened by evanescent grace. 
There is birdsong that enswathes the air of the graveyard. " Joined with the chorus of the dead, it pierces the heart with more precision than prophesy. This song " of the living's eloquence and the deads' abandon " carries us towards evening. 
Its melody wends through Time, through Fate's indifferent landscape. No mathematician can map its course nor calculate by statistical prediction its destination.
             -Phil Rockstroh

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