I stepped out into the night, and shook like a leaf hurled in the wild November wind, which seemed to ravel up the drapiery of time, and spread the night-clouds’ lacy jags across the under-sky, while far beyond, the swelling body of the stars, the body of the universe - in which our solar system’s arc, our earth’s turn, the wind’s sweep, my hair’s billow, and my mind’s flow, are fibres to the thread that threads a button to a sleeve - seems still, yet moves, and shows itself alive to the way of all flesh, of change and suspension, puzzle and patterning, the inconsolable and irrepressible urge, the tear and trail of star-fire, the harmony of music in decay, as each fresh note or dazzling silence strikes up new modes, shaking the filmy lattice of space and time to palpability, disjunctions to new junctions jumped in signs shot across the sky, smilingly, the turn of lip in the curl of the wind, begging the untranslatable through flickerings of light, and shooting starts, the wind, incorrigible, throwing clouds across the intermittent whole. A breath taken, in reverent mimicry of the wind’s ritual, stopped my blood short, and struck the clouds from my brain’s firmament, and the sound, the sound of rushing leaves stirring together, time’s waters roaring in my ear, and the veering wind angling upward, that sound, could have urged the stars to fall apart, and let the night’s black mantle fall away, could have been the first breath taken before the last tumultous trumpeting, and I would have welcomed it, as my flesh welcomed it then; then my mind, steady as the moving stars, thrust itself into a smile upon my lips.

2:30 -3:30am 4th Nov ‘10