Constellations (17 July 2009)

There is brilliance in the lines we draw and in the images that offer themselves to us. The imagination contains no forms and sets itself to work dissolving appearances to make room for a smile or a deep breath, a glimpse at the stars, a sip of pinot, the apogee of a leap. "What are your lines?" What might the world offer to the one who turns her face upward to the sky stretched across the space through which we fly? What fullness of time will saturate the moment before the next step that will propel us onward? What are the lines we draw between us?