darkness

so deep

so profound

so penetrating

no boundaries exist

no inside

no outside

no shape

no form

only infinite void

encompassing

uncertain

reality

yet even in darkness

there is sound

of wind rustling tall prairie grass

of water rushing over well-worn stone

of crickets

no

the crickets

have suddenly fallen silent

or were they ever there

in the darkness

how can one be certain

then

slowly

like a curious child

carefully lifting the cast-iron lid

from a round black kettle to reveal

the soup simmering inside

light begins to filter

into the sky

in the east

Light.

East.

Language enters

and awareness

focuses.

At first the pre-dawn light is faint and its existence questionable.

Then, at some point, it becomes certain. Let there be light. And it is so.

The horizon takes shape to the east. Forms congeal out of darkness. Trees tower

over a meandering creek. Low-lying prairie hills frame the water’s path. And a wide

expansive sky, giving popular name to this land, extends to embrace a seemingly

limitless horizon reaching out in all directions.

Big Sky. Montana. The Treasure State.

By the time the sun has crested the low-lying hills and buttes to the east, impenetrable

darkness has become place: space populated with details, with specifics, with identities,

with histories.

Color and form combine with language to fashion familiarity and relationship.

And we have come to arrive home again

for the first time

today.

© 2017 J L Bergland