Communing with the Beloved frequently escapes from mere words altogether.
So it was that sitting out at dusk under the Cape Ash – each naked branch of which has a bunch of green shoots at its tip – all I found in my head was the showpiece track from Jefferson Starship’s Red Octopus.
Yes, the track whose chorus makes no bloody sense at all.
The music ghosted through me again when I came across this collection of the Mother’s own fractals.
Cape Ash from below.
Malaysian river from above.
How deeply moving is this world we run and crawl and laugh and cry through: moving in a way words cannot touch and music can only be an accompaniment to.
Beloved, how gorgeous Thou art.