8/7/2019 Being Not Becoming
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Waves cresting sharply against a driving west wind.
Green drab, opaque brown, rising like a wall, curling,sending a
mane of spray, shiny with rainbows, up andback as they collapse in
a smother of foam.
Next wave rising up behind, ready to take its turn.
uiet lull as water rushes out.
Big ones rise, begin to curl far out, rushing inwards in
abuilding crescendo, like an orgasm; before spilling in aflurry,
spending force with abandon, creaming the sur-face, its visible
breath wreathed in prismatic color, hangsin air before dissipating
in a relaxation as it succumbs togravity in a falling sigh.
Place transforms before our eyes, low, confused in roiling
arrays of wash that hold their shape, their form, as theywalk in
towards the shore.
Walls of water, like horses, vaulting themselves over barri-ers
they take shape for a lingering instant before crash-ing.
ey present a moment of clarity, Being, not becoming.
A moment returning, repeating, inexhaustible, nevertwice the
same.
We try to capture them, to hold them in memory.
An impossible complexity, too rich, too fleeting to beheld.
is phase itself passing calm will return, darkness, achange of
tide, of wind.
is phase demands attention.
Edges, surfaces, lines of force, each movement there in
itspredecessor holding its following moment in an
incessantflow.
Curling breakers inspire, wind hard against their faces,exhaling
in great gouts of spray, leaving rainbows lunging,refracting golden
light into all its parts, colors scatteredover sea and sky share,
feeding off the sun now setting,source of wind, of waves, of all
that make up this scene.
Rainbows arching, and falling, expire.
Being, Not Becoming
03.07.11
