stealthily the little one walks upon frail gestures of earth and cold;
a flower too bright to see and too dark to remain unnoticed,
whose enormous curve of tiny flesh takes on forms perfumed
with scents found hardly in the doorways of youth
I, the fracas of an accused moon laden with lonely nights,
hear none of the cloaked visions wafting on fragranced air
instead, and only because we see not in light,
him alone bequeaths a new and immense swoon
too silver to feel
and too heavy to see
along the wrath of blossoms we walk
and amongst the petals who so quickly wish,
in the windows of old age,
to be more than toward us
exactly have I the answer to his question
which I have not heard
and a frail flower walking in its silent death beseeches
[I wrote this in January 2009, but it took on sudden emotion today that I couldn’t ignore; there is also this repost of it with photos from July 2009]
Does one need to understand optical slits and diffraction in order to appreciate an opalescent spider web at sunset?
Does one need to understand descriptive geometry and linear perspective in order to appreciate how objects grow smaller as they grow more distant, and how on a foggy day these lend to the magic of a simple scene?
Does one need to understand static charge and atmospheric electrical discharge in order to appreciate when the cosmos draws patterns in the sky, or how its rapid pressure and temperature changes cause a sonic shock wave that results in the booming voice of heaven?
Does one need to understand caustic networks, catastrophe optics, and focused and defocused lensing in order to appreciate the play of light and shadow beneath the water’s surface?
No, one need not understand any of those things in order to appreciate their results. But in my opinion the understanding makes them all the more beautiful.