Noonday Marks
There are rigors against the surfaces of diluted trends within diluted spatial-temporal domains. They bear little rigor. They barely make their marks. But noonday marks are treacherous and deep. They soar percurrently above perception as they tend the undercurrent for the resurgence of life as contra-perception. All things have edges that must retain their stance or push them to peril. Time is not a passerby’s plaything.
“Where do we find ourselves? In a series of which we do not know the extremes, and believe that it has none. We wake and find ourselves on a stair; there are stairs below us, which we seem to have ascended; there are stairs above us, many a one, which go upward and out of sight. But the Genius which, according to the old belief, stands at the door by which we enter, and gives us the lethe to drink, that we may tell no tales, mixed the cup too strongly, and we cannot shake off the lethargy now at noonday. Sleep lingers all our lifetime about our eyes, as night hovers all day in the boughs of the fir-tree. All things swim and glitter. Our life is not so much threatened as our perception.”
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
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