And in that mundane moment of utter grey sobriety, eager eyes parsing the soundless prayer of a million golden trumpet flowers swaying to the rhythm of a mute cerulean sky, does a mind pause in its jagged drift to question the wonder of being?

Is it incredulous to be alive inside that moment, in that place, in that particular yellow-blue trifle of infinity? When you could travel an entire lifetime and never reach the edge of time or of this illusory reality?

Can it be choreographed to that incalculably delicate detail, the dance of all that is, or is it just that chance meeting of restless chemicals that will mean something only when they are alone and perfectly still again?

over the empty sea
a breathless eagle searches
for a resting place


52 thoughts on “Choreography

    1. Whatever works in terms of context and meaning for each person’s life of course… The very big questions can be utterly enlightening or completely unnecessary and both may be right… πŸ™‚ Thanks for stopping by oldegg!!!


  1. Such a glorious image of “a million golden trumpet flowers swaying to the rhythm of a mute cerulean sky.” Wow! And I love the vivid image you close with, of that eagle seeking a place to land. Fantastic imagery.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Simply lovely images of dance, of life. Your last paragraph is something many people ponder. I like to believe all those parts of the dance come together for a reason – to have faith that the dance is perfectly choreographed.

    Liked by 1 person

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