The light finally arrived. I’ve been watching the sunrise all morning and nothing special. It’s just a tuesday I don’t know why the church bells are ringing. The horizon had a dried layer of blood, the brown halo. But now that the light has come stripping across a patch of grass, the hammock, the red orange yellow leaves below it, it looks like a world full of elves and small creatures and color. I want to lie there in that spot under the hammock. It’s 30 degrees and wet and cold and the grass is reflecting the light. It’s hiding its color. How much of the world depends upon light. The white makes the color. I’ve often thought about that – what if green isn’t really green in the world? How does God see it? We are all stuck, subjective in our bodies. The things we are taught as children. Love is red, green is go, yellow is pears and taxi cabs. What if the yellow that we see isn’t really yellow at all? What if the light is playing tricks on us?
Whatever the color, I want my spot there my spot under the hammock all day. Just to be in the light. I don’t care if it’s wet or if it’s cold. I’m already sick. I’m already getting sick. What’s the harm in pressuring the inevitable to come a little quicker. Come quicker so I can get over it.
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