The Field-Watcher When in the shadows of the passing day A seat is found, asleep in calm Soundness, as activity of the mind Cease, and the slow and wavy dreams Of reality vanish by timeless Art, he who observes the secrets Of the fast-forgotten world finds purpose Insensible to sleep, remnant Of future life. The fullness of the stars Softly infuse the distant sky With rays of obscure light, the horizon Ever holds the dawn in glimmer. Douglas Thornton 2018
November 26th, 2013 Some wither, some have the barest trace, and others are just beginning: this is the state of the autumn trees at the moment. This is, however, not very interesting to know, but the value lies in recognition. We may use the same language to describe people as well, but if we do not know their momentum; if we do not perceive the movement of their spirit from the outward motion of their bodies, it touches us not even if we had the knowledge of ten thousand men in front of us. We open ourselves to the reality and the possibility of knowing something through appearance or intended purpose, but take as a sign for understanding the familiarity it brings to our own ideas. Yet to know something is to respond to it, just as the colour of the sky responds to the inclination of the sun; for we are all speaking even if we pronounce not the slightest word, but it is only those who answer us that we care to talk to--and so it is with the autumn trees. Douglas Thornton