AND IT WAS MORNING THE LIGHT THAT WAY.  so I say why to hold it in mine but then it isn’t for I said to myself What is mine I need not share the meaning lost in translation anyway only the dream of the meaning left and once you give that away is anything in your control besides who hasn’t seen a sunrise sunset and said Ya or better yet nothing at all which is why I shouldn’t be frustrated by these words for the best response to beauty is silence the best peace solitude and I might have been on my period but damn if Mason didn’t know it’s the spaces in between a woman fills which let him be a man

ah you saw what you could see—that’s all

I looked sideways.  Not to the right for we were above the trees now the fields below yellow rust far away. It sloped upwards—this near pasture—for as the trail ran along the bluff there was a fence there.  Just a split rail fence and beyond it I looked and it was mine what I saw and I saw beauty I saw what God intended the silliness of trying to figure out how it all began the pretension we could know how the laws work and thus not be subject to them I saw and was without excuse but somehow it all went wrong something slipped up in my thinking for there I was looking at the mist in the trees the wildflowers how the sun warmed it this pasture sloping up like it led to heaven just a wood rail fence to step over and I lost it by saying to myself I will make it mine and then let it go inspired then but saddened now because all it was all it became to me was in expression this futile endeavor God gave us all up to where we’re surrounded by beauty and since we want it rather than what created it it has all the meaningless dross of the inheritance from a dead father…

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