To View History As a Space Of Matter is To View a Flower As a Satellite

To view history as a space of matter is to view a flower as a satellite. A wand with reason, a spoon to ladle, a gesture free of words.

I see it clear with no distractions. A sparkle ready to be absorbed and diffused into light. A stem as thin as vein and petals as wide as our arms can span out. Although thin as a vein, it holds as if it were a braid. But, to view this flower as a satellite means we must send it off. Let go. And understand there might not be a return. An orbit turned into a myth.

But in this space, this history is attracted matter.

Maybe it’s a hole sinking into the ground. Like a finger pushing into skin. Or tension pulling from behind. And all this stuff falls to this one source.

Maybe it’s a stone as small as can be seen, reflecting every bit of light. Or a stone as large as space can be, as wide as our eyes can reach. But whatever it is. It’s a space where things gather. Gathered by force, gathered by hand.

The lap around this space is forever. A continuous spiral tightening itself into a screw. A screw that never reaches to a point. Even when its nose meets that first layer of earth, it will penetrate with ease. And it will spiral, it will screw right down to that part in the middle. That part which is made up of water. Made up of still shallow freshwater. And even then, when it reaches the middle, it reflects and the spiral begins again. From core to open space and so on.

A stem as thin as vein and strong as braid. In a landing with moving parts. A satellite roofs over you and stands in the way of moving force.

You become the soft spot. The space of reflection. The space for infinite projection.