
How seeing depends… opacity, clarity… foggy horizons between tumultuous sea and sky…
Light, as a feather – the dawn in darkness, or the hoping carrying despair.
What is seen, then? What fore- or back- grounds an image? How? In mist, in motion. In a dream that waking brings.
In which direction, grounding? And wherefore? Lightness limning itself again, again, in midst of darker swells and slighter traces.
How seeing depends… on light, the eye, the stimmung – the stemming of mood – and graver swirls… beg-ins and sets-out from. Within. Without. Finding curious concord. Even when there’s barely there. Either.
Deepens, depends, opens out, away, in deep ends, hollow holing, turbulent tunnels, seeing unseen, a groping for/in light where none. Peering is something, as the closing of the eyes – telescopic blindfold.
Perhaps dawn is down, where despair is rising. Hope precipitating beyond eithers, or… differences imperceptible save the seeing…
How seeing depends… and deepens with what is searched for, what wants, who opens, what feels, within each where-when, becoming there-thens, seeing how.
It begins, then, all seeing, between. Bounding back-forth in light and light and any weighted things, ever shifting seeing-sea and emptied sky, re-membering differences to seamlessness, with opaque clarity, as such your “I.”

The tides are lovely here, shifting between sounds and meanings. (An elegant stumble is a dance).
Thank you Simon, your readership means much
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.” (Emily Dickinson)
perfect! Thanks!
I wish I had words to share in kind. Just beautifully done, Friend. x