Terabytes of boundless beauty ...
I perceive only a tiny fraction of them in any given second.
Clarity is impossible without focus.
I must use a big cleaver;
and then, if I'm lucky, smaller blades, ever smaller.
The sweet, tender nugget of perception is always hiding way down deep inside.
I find it only occasionally.
These days pass greased on a 45-degree downslope.
(It was only 35 degrees a decade ago!)
What's beyond terabytes?
I listened to my heart beat this morning,
covers up to my ears,
turned to my side:
ba-ba ... ba-ba ... ba-ba ... ba-ba ...
How many times has it done that now?
How much of those endless terabytes over endlessly finite years
have crushed it, worn it down, weakened it, hardened it?
How brittle is it?
Honest contemplations at a cliffside.
Windswept trees; frigid water; cool, pine-and-brine-scented air;
a serene, spectral sky.
Another blessed day.
Moments. What am I paying attention to?
Where is my cutlery?
Just north of Brookings, Oregon