Be above, new-angled, hugged by the haze of the horizon:
See some of the lines of your world. See patterns. See movement.
See soundless motion.
See the world as a tableau of pure flowing change: the stutter-fly darting of birds,
The smooth-moving, gliding glints off of cars,
The near-imperceptible rustle of a thousand million branches and a million million leaves,
The molasses-look of far-below rivers.
Watch a slice of the world wake up; watch it stretch and become occupied and in-use again, given renewed illumin'd form by the sunlight,
By its constant, caressing, ever-new-angled sharpness:
But a sharpness that cannot cut, that can instead be absorbed, drunk in by the land below
The land waiting patiently to hold you again.
...actually not inspired by Up, as I have not seen it yet. But I wished to write something gentle.
© Christopher Walsh, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christopher Walsh (chris_walsh) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.