“Here man has invented the heavens but the moon, not to be usurped, shines sickle bright, gathering our souls.”
There is an elemental cosmic loneliness in the pit of every human soul. We spend our lives trying to make it bearable and call our efforts love, or art. (Which might, in the end be one and the same.) Every once in a while, we are lifted out of the pit into a salutary sense of connection and congress with something larger — a sense of being but one wave among the incalculable lapping l...
Published on August 31, 2021 09:46