Ordinary day in isolation, growing to a great wrath in the evening. I feel–as I have ever felt– that I am stopped at the edge of what I want and who I am, and he who stops me is the one who should lift me up and forward, according to his promise. Prepared to dance fury in the garden at the rising of the evening star. But when I went out, it was so beautiful, the feathers of the pines against the pastel sky, the calling of so many birds in their last music before night. The skies were clear of vapor trails and the noise of travel. Ishtar sparkled like a diamond over my old house. Lights began to burn in the neighbors’ windows. There was too much peace for me to launch the assault I had intended. Praise, grudging at the edges, but thanks and praise. Beautiful garden, beautiful night oncoming. I decided to dwell, for the moment, on nothing but that.
Sunday, April 5, 2020
April 4, 2020
Ordinary day in isolation, growing to a great wrath in the evening. I feel–as I have ever felt– that I am stopped at the edge of what I want and who I am, and he who stops me is the one who should lift me up and forward, according to his promise. Prepared to dance fury in the garden at the rising of the evening star. But when I went out, it was so beautiful, the feathers of the pines against the pastel sky, the calling of so many birds in their last music before night. The skies were clear of vapor trails and the noise of travel. Ishtar sparkled like a diamond over my old house. Lights began to burn in the neighbors’ windows. There was too much peace for me to launch the assault I had intended. Praise, grudging at the edges, but thanks and praise. Beautiful garden, beautiful night oncoming. I decided to dwell, for the moment, on nothing but that.
Ordinary day in isolation, growing to a great wrath in the evening. I feel–as I have ever felt– that I am stopped at the edge of what I want and who I am, and he who stops me is the one who should lift me up and forward, according to his promise. Prepared to dance fury in the garden at the rising of the evening star. But when I went out, it was so beautiful, the feathers of the pines against the pastel sky, the calling of so many birds in their last music before night. The skies were clear of vapor trails and the noise of travel. Ishtar sparkled like a diamond over my old house. Lights began to burn in the neighbors’ windows. There was too much peace for me to launch the assault I had intended. Praise, grudging at the edges, but thanks and praise. Beautiful garden, beautiful night oncoming. I decided to dwell, for the moment, on nothing but that.
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