With casual grace, wit and: With casual grace, wit and perception, you expressed that profound feeling of humility and astonishment that seizes us when we ponder our lives "on a huge planet/ an enormous orb/ with billions of others/ to share my fortune", and what a flawless hit this is: "I am stoned/ in the presence of its magnitude".
Yes. It's like that.
A delightful introspection.
I live : Thank you for the information, I was living a completely separate set of statistics and so my eyes don't see any of what you described (then or now, - hope that you're well by the way). You look up, but i look around. You read on it, i live it (whati speak on or of) and it is nothing like what they've told you... but it is shifting a bit...
continuing to pray and move
This reminds me of a very: This reminds me of a very cherished memory I have of viewing Saturn, and its spectacular rings, throughmy college's observatory telescope; which, though built in the 19th century, had been maintained for supervised use of Physics majors, or of those of us who took Astronomy 101. I felt the same overwhelming feeling which you describe so well as "stoned / in the presence of its magnitude." Because of that memory, this poem touched me very deeply and profoundly.
This is a very astute: This is a very astute observation. In the spring of 1980, as my senior undergrad year was drawing to its end. I took an independent study course in my major, History, with an emphasis on my interest in ancient Rome. Ten different histories of Rome of the first century A.D. were assigned to me, and I was required to read one each week and report on it on Friday mornings. Each book had been deliberately, not randomly, selected by my instructor. One of the aspects to which he wanted me to pay close attention was the attitude of each historian, or writer, toward the subject matter. None of the historians were actually contemporary; spanning from late 18th century Europe to 1920's America. I was amazed at how the same subject matter could be presented, so differently, by those historians. The one I found most fascinating was a Russian historian, descended from aristocracy, whose family had been mostly wiped out by the Bolshevik Party during the Revolution. His vision of ancient Rome was far different than that of an American historian who wrote in the early 19th century, with the American Revolution well in mind. Same ancient Rome---same early Christians, same emperors, same Republic being raped into an Empire---and yet, very different interpretations.
So what you have stated, in this poem, is not some imaginary assertion: it is a very real---sometimes subtle, sometimes glaring---aspect of at least the academic and scholarly study of History.
Thanks! : Really appreciate you saying that! I Was trying to capture that weird fleeting feeling of awkward one night connections that went no where. Had a few too many of those!
a worthwhile observation: We can't pontificate our writing nor can we guide our Muse. In a very real way, it is our writing that defines the contours of our life journey, and the periods of travel, its stopovers, sojourns, and stretches. Thanks for sharing.
Please accept my apology. I: Please accept my apology. I don't mean to badmouth the entire population of the state, only those in the legislature and their supporters who go along with this nonsense. It's beyond the pale, in my opinion, and very dangerous.
The idea that politicians in: The idea that politicians in one state would feel so high and mighty as to delegitimize elections in other states with no proof is infuriating. However, typecasting the people in the entire state is risky business. You can't hope to educate or enlighten people if you're too busy calling them stupid. That sets off a defense mechanism that will only push them further in that direction.