Fleeting Landscapes

There is something to be said about the graceful ways in which our days unfold. Though I try hard to conceive their fleeting landscapes, the days all too quickly vanish, dissolving into the vast untranslatable universe. Each separate slice of memory re-emerges in time, but I am unable to name or place individual pieces that butt up against the world's rough enchanting edge. Somewhere out there I dwell, content in the transience of such moments, pausing within the extremities of their environment. One is always in search of those intriguing dreams, those illusive encounters, those configurations of a day, summed up simply as pockets of truth that we take to be real within the cusp of deep perception. We find harmony in the shapely cut of our finely wrought landscape and in the way our lives navigate the roaring currents of time and its unmapped geographies.