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Motionless geometries

Modifié le : 2019/07/22

Eagles prowl over a huge colony of wild geese rest­ing in a water­hole. The cam­era points at a rap­tor hold­ing a shred­ded bird between its legs. He drops it, a younger eagle catch­es up with the prey and then jumps up, pass­es the oth­er and leaves it, in turn, for his com­pan­ion to catch it. The les­son con­tin­ues as fol­lows. It is both a game and an exer­cise. The adult sees to the fate of his offspring.

Below, the geese con­tin­ue their activ­i­ties, know­ing that they no longer have any­thing to fear. The eagles got what they wanted.

The images of the PBS report are strik­ing. That very morn­ing, I was read­ing about the fierce ener­gies of the cen­ter of our only galaxy fight­ing like myth­i­cal titans while, on its periph­ery, a small bluish stone teems with a strong, dynam­ic, vio­lent and tran­sient life.

Just this morn­ing, a friend told me about a nec­es­sary rest peri­od, because he works too hard. Anoth­er anguish because a cat on the roof was dri­ven out of its den. Else­where, as we know, mad­men want to put God on their side by sav­age­ly mur­der­ing souls. The Earth is a crys­tal of tor­ment and beauty.

At home, in me, zones of calm and storms. My gaze con­stant­ly cap­tures the motion­less geome­tries of the pass­ing time. It may be that a black hole is attack­ing my des­tiny right now, it may be that a star is com­ing to illu­mi­nate or set fire to my sky.

It may be. Noth­ing is tak­en for grant­ed. I let go as if I could only be a poet sub­ject­ed to the scent of ignorance.

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