360*tree

take my hand and climb with me…

one hundred and ninety degrees: ‘into the circle of birth…’

The Boy In The Bubble ~ Paul Simon

one hundred and ninety

A silver, lining. So bright, it’s blinding. Sky, on fire. Our twinned, hearts. Delight. In the greening, autumn. Verdant promise, bursting forth. And I am, reminded. These words, I once. Wrote. Under different, circumstances. For other, eyes. But celebrating, love. All the same.

Because. Some things, by their very affinity to death become profound and immortal. How do you kill that which has died, and died and died. Only to rise again. ‘Still I rise’? Still indeed. It was always the curiosity, the strangeness of the situation that made it oddly sacred. Secreted away in the tomb of death, somehow something lived on. Curled tight as a seed. Buried in snows, cold compact ground hard and impenetrable. And yet. Deep within the heart of decay, beat the vital fires of life. Which will not be quelled. Cannot be kept or tempered or tamed. It persists, begs, with a dogged tenacity until winter relents to springs subtle seduction, ice melts to gentle rain and moisture sinks through fathoms of soil, unlocking the epicenter of death with one cool probing finger, like an insistent lover. And life slowly coaxes itself towards itself, slowly it strengthens. And begins, to grow…again.

*

These are the days of miracle and wonder…

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4 comments on “one hundred and ninety degrees: ‘into the circle of birth…’

  1. Loved that entire album!

    • circulartree
      April 8, 2013

      Oh me too! I literally grew up on it… and it reminds me so much of my step dad. Who is arriving for a visit from Scotland, tomorrow. A very significant and sentimental childhood album for me. I almost used ‘Receive’ tonight… but the perfect day’s still coming. Lots of love lovely lady of the Deep South xxx

  2. seanbidd
    April 9, 2013

    The moment I hear verdant, the term arboreal always floods my mind, like the inversion reflection to the heart of the oak in the sky above, two elements to a story. Part mystery, part tangible spirit, to an expressive space, like those your words fill above in such a wonder, in its moments, a good distraction to different days.

  3. Victoria
    April 9, 2013

    B, I’m running out of adequate descriptive words. I’ll try, tho’….. “exquisite”. xox

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This entry was posted on April 8, 2013 by in Autumn and tagged , , , , , , .

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