Let It Be Folly, Let It Be Prayer
There is no deep, brooding reason I work in the dark, aided only by the glow that emanates from my computer screen. I open the blinds and leave the light off simply to watch and absorb the arrival of dawn. I used to do the same thing, in effect, when we lived on the farm. I loved to be out before the sun was up, and to observe the solemn outline of the barns and trees and orchards and vines. City or country, to me, a day begun in this manner seems to have a better chance of being productive, fulfilling, and right.
I also like to work with the lights off at dusk, glancing occasionally out the window as the landscape fades and the neighbors� lights come on. And I like to work during the day, when sunlight floods the room and brings colors to life and objects into focus. I like to work through storms, both meteorological and mental.
I like to work when daylight turns to honey,
the streets to cold black water, the earth to chocolate,
the sun to lemon, the stars to tears, the leaves to hands,
the shadows to friends, the mountains to myth,
the rivers to veins, the gravestones to miles,
the warmth of flesh to a cure.
I like to work knowing my life could end at any moment, and that the words I spend will glimmer, then fade. I do not want to live forever, but I already have. Or, if I must, then let it be for a short time. Let it be now, alone, together, distant, and near.
Let it be folly. Let it be prayer.
October 22, 2006
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