Windows To the World

Disappearing like the straggling stars of morning, all the discontent of winter fades before the multifarious data streaming from the light-filled cupola above. It funnels into every mind, resisted only by that most persistent ignorance selected with our daily bread. There are those few incisive revelers who celebrate the windows in the cupola, who love the vastness of a universe gone strange. They are the ones who stand apart from all the marionettes who feed on green reward, who dance among the pleasure domes of Kublai Kahn. How strange, indeed, to make a choice that spites the madding crowd, that takes a curious joy from any sober judgment by the hound of heaven-- that kindly beast who leads where multitudes decline to follow. That is the course of neverland, the beat of saints and of angelic hosts of art yet to be shaped, of philosophic insight yet too far advanced to understand. All right. It is too much of fantasy. Some work remains, even to speculate that such romance could ever be desired, beyond the carmelcorn, the Croesis fellowship, the manufactured lusts. For there are the ingredients to feed the soul. Just behind those lavish windows lies not only consolation, but the challenge of a paradise that offers up its heart within the mine to every prospecter for truth. ~