Took these pictures at the Pagoda grave yard in Colorado.
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . . an old friend of mine found himself wandering through that depressing maze that shows itself around the time that virtually everything seems to be going wrong. Such was the case nearly four decades ago when he wound up living alone in Utah, his family still in Arizona, while engaged in what turned out to be a temporary and interim, but lonely, employment. About midway through his six month stint ‘up there’ he sent me a poem he’d written one night whilst he watched a full moon rise over the mountains, and over a bottle of sorrow-drowning Scotch.
It occurred to me recently, while contemplating the dismal impact of today’s absurd and thoughtless domestic (Wingnut) political agenda and practice that in many ways, not much has changed in the nearly forty years that have passed since I received his brief but compelling poem in the mail. So I retrieved the poem from its home in the dusty archives and couldn’t help but notice that, as with any imperative poetry, the message is, indeed, timeless no matter the details of the original inspiration. And, too, it seems that the far more recent photographs, when coupled with the sadness implicit in the message, suggest that no matter how dismal the moment might seem, a visit with the beauties implicit in Nature, in that which lies beyond the reach of human foible, can and often does serve to revitalize the sagging spirit.
So, without further ado . . . poem by T.R. Nissle, photos by moi.
by T.R.Nissle (ca. 1975)
Mystic eye of the darkened sky,
Compelled to stray estranged on high,
Pallored by the sight of woe below, it watches
Stated another way, to hell with greed, with the lust for power and control; to hell with Wingnut politics, to hell with human foible and with the gloom for lives unfit . . . !!
And hello to the Beauty implicit ‘out there,’ far beyond all the nonsensical BS we have to deal with every day ‘in here.’