but, as I drive to the desert house to get the last load of stuff, I pass a pigeon having lunch in a nearby wash. Not a dove, a pigeon, and I don't hear an owl or see hawks. Coyoté is not here. Desolation is not knowing the center of the universe, not knowing what is there, where it is. I know. I know the cosmic center of my universe. I lived there this past year. I may never live there again. It may vanish in urban sprawl. But it is there. The center is there. And I've lived in it. I will always know it. Wherever I range a chord connects, a line turns my heart home, there, toward the center of the universe. Desolation can not enter here for there Coyoté and Owl shall always live. |
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RD Savage
12/12/98 © 1998 |