! ! Heaven As Spectrum

Bold March sunlight bounces off the yellow-grey-brown London claybricks of the house across the gardens; the next-door neighbour’s cut the dead ivy and the reflected light hits the artificial flowers and their strong delicate colours, glowing in their various cobalt vases; blooming joyful where living flowers find that corner sad; the flowers as if washed today with brighter water-colours; as if grace itself, wishing to send a message to this room today, had chosen the spectrum of the flowers’ purples, yellows, blues and reds as its medium and message; and its smile; today, the spectrum is for me metaphor enough – its rainbow limits playing now-you-see-me… with the retina, hinting at the formless always beckoning there, beyond the form.. metaphor enough for heaven’s mind itself; and heaven’s smile.