Waterfall Ramblings
Even in places bursting at the seams with natural life there exist enclaves of the Earth's majesty shaped for no other purpose but to please and enrich the human senses. In fact, the overflow of beauty and novelty in these little sanctuaries, extraneous to the strict economies of the atmosphere, elicit doubt towards the origin of sapien perception: did it grow so sensitive as to ascribe to the merciless environment a reflection of conscious order and belonging, or was it the potent plethora of gorgeousness, burdened by its own wealth of stimuli, which demanded that out of the creatures of the world emerge but one capable of appreciating its many-faceted complexity? Poseidon was not a man who represented the sea. Poseidon was the sea, grown temperamental from waiting on his fish to sprout legs and fears of drowning, as was Jove from their tardiness in discovering marital infidelity. The bastard child and the jealous gods are both, perhaps, the symptoms of an untimely artistry, forever out of phase with its audience. Where else would the "dupe of brevity and numbered hours" find the perfect targets for inventive plagiarism? Even still, this "moth of time," gifted with arrogance and "a few snatched moments from the barren glut and suck of living" seeks to perfect the vision of the very same beauty that chartered countless painstaking births and destructions. It's not enough for summer's scents to come and go as per their script; no, for the distiller of perfumes they must be "pent in walls of glass", made "liquid prisoner," transfigured beyond recognition and deemed an improvement over their original rhythm of existence. Smells composed, remixed incestuosly, and made subjects of sonnets expounding the virtues of human reproduction; this is how the troubles of the "prodigal elements" are repaid by those "waited on" by "all creatures", by the ones supplied with "life and food" despite the self-attributed privilege of impurity and the long period of uselessness that each human birth demands.
And yet, however late to the witnessing of its tremendous bounty, which demands not only the proper receptacle but a precarious state of gentle focus, the patient sanctuary continues to transport with unrelenting willingness its ignorant and necessary obstacle to a destined moment of clarity, a "single fleeting breath in peace and comfort," not scattered, but grafted "to grow there and to bear." Yes, like the spermatozoa which knows not of its orgasmic origins nor of its coalescent position in the survival of a species, the sapien leaves dumbfounded, susceptible to miscarriage of a holy and everlasting purpose.
