Sunday, January 10, 2010

On top of the world

It has been snowing for days. In the East, a steady few inches per day has blanketed both town and countryside, purifying all that stares skyward. Snow, uniquely, makes the ugliest beautiful for a time - morphing demons into angels.

Driving North and West, I crossed the Pennines, and briefly skirted an invisible boundary; fleetingly traversing the veil which separates two worlds. No words can describe the beauty of that drive. The sky was exceptionally clear. Snow draped over the ancient hills, crossed with drystone walls and dotted with farmhouses; the winter sun casting oblique shadows on the pristine palette. Looking South-West, the hills were ablaze with frosted fire. The scene was dissected by one of my favourite roads, and my perception of the stark beauty was heightened by the ever-present risk of the conditions, by constant alertness to the subtle messages of traction transmitted through the steering column. Through superposition of the beauty and the danger, I felt unusually alive.

As so often, Divine Comedy lyrics sprung to mind.

One butterfly spies the glint in his eye

The birds sing as he cycles by

And Oh! Why should he feel sad?

This world ain't so bad

And besides, woe betide he who would frown

When natural beauty abounds!

And now, with wheels spinning free,

He's picking up speed...

Two butterflies tie knots in his stomach

They love it when he goes to fast

Wind whistles past: vast oceans of air

That will mess up his hair

Though he no longer cares anymore

For overindulgence in vanity's
vacuous vice
Just once or twice
. Thrice.
Four times in five

We forget we're alive

And neglect to remind ourselves

Oh wait, wait for me!

Oh, great Mercury

As long as you may be

Oh, won't you wait for me?

Three butterflies realise when it's time to depart

They have tickled his ribs, they have fluttered his heart

But the starting is easy compared to the stop

And the bottom is hard when compared to the top!

Ooh, la la, la la la la....

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

We have forgotten

Dreams - inconsistent angel things;
Horses bred with star-laced wings

But it's so hard to make them fly


These wings beat the night sky above the town

One goes up and one goes down

And so the chariot hits the ground

We have forgotten
[Don't try to make me fly]

How it used to be
[I'll stay here, I'll be fine]

How it used to be
[Don't go and let me down]

How it used to be
[I'm starting to like this town]

When wings beat the night sky above the ground,

Will I unwillingly shoot them down

With all my petty fears and doubts?

We have forgotten
[Am I in love with this?]

How it used to be
[My constant broken ship]

How it used to be
[Don't go, I'll shoot you down]

How it used to be
[I'm starting to like this town]

Sixpence None The Richer