Eyes to the Skies
Sunsets.
The fires
in the skies are not
from burning wood. These fires
are the conflagration of water in air.
Solar burning.
Earth turning.
Eyes to the skies
wrapt in an everyday rapture.
Regrettably Novareinna has decided to withdraw from acquainting us with folktales from the world in these future issues. She has served Seeker Magazine well, ever since the second issue or so, as you can determine by visiting the Contributors Index and checking out the myriad of stories she has brought forth. Every now and then, we will reprise a Tale to recall the flavor that Novareinna added to the mix of stories and essays and poetry.
Second, Darius Gottlieb will set aside this fall for a respite from Avant Soul. We look forward to his return in 2004. We encourage you to check out his listing in the Contributors Index, also. Many of his unusual poems and beautiful photos are in the archives.
Third, frustrations: Why is it that when one gets a new computer, to get everything running reasonably smoothly with the things that one is used to inevitably runs into snags. Like loading the FTP program and being unable to get on AOL. Incredible! Unloading and deleting FTP enabled me to dialup AOL but couldn't start a email message to send. My sister reinstalled AOL three times this afternoon because every time she would reload the FTP, same thing.
I notice how short my temper becomes as snags become more plentiful. It's amazing how quickly a computer can burn my fuse. I believe that computers have given us the amazing desire to have something now that used to take a week…and we lived lives that took that week into consideration. Perhaps some took that week impatiently but for others it was simply time that slid away…and eventually got there.
Time
Time tempts me on
Through luscious strands,
Weaving, shimmering,
Beguiling
Narrow as a sliver,
Little time there is that
Calls to the doubter
Who sacrifices
What was desired
For lack of time
Expansive as the dark
Of star-pocked universes,
All the time that is
Is mine
