A Hundred Gourds 2:3 June 2013
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page 6  

Steven Carter - USA

Fog on the Lake

Following a night of rain, lines of fog move slowly up the lake from south to north, obscuring half the Mission foothills, making the other half seem closer to the east shore and to me.

Physicists tell us that what I’m seeing are mere representations of a subatomic world composed of quarks, hadrons, leptons, and the newly discovered Higgs boson. So be it. If the world is Plato’s cave, and shadows cast by atoms are all we have. . . I find this notion strangely attractive.

As the fog lifts, Love, too seems to be a shadow, a substitute for something impersonal, something we can’t embrace, not the other’s embrace, which tightens our embrace.

                    of an eagle
                                 the branch still rocking


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