Reflections on a 21st of April, 2013

April 22nds have not been good to me. For a while I thought they had. Then they seemed bifurcated, joining the best with the worst, but it turned out that the seemingly better part had been an ambush waiting to spring and spring it did. So, … on the eve of that ever fateful day, I’m somewhat apprehensive.

Today the day itself seems apprehensive, at least along the upper central range of the Colombian Andes were our glacial volcano sleeps fitfully. This morning as it slumbered it shared a series of shivers with the Celestial City. My body doesn’t accept the fact that they’ve ended and that they were really fairly mild but the chandeliers reassure me, making it clear it’s just my imagination.

The morning, as it tends to here, woke beautiful, its splendor articulated in a myriad of different patterns. During the early morning, wisps of clouds percolated, steaming from hidden dens seemingly everywhere and now, several hours later, they’ve coalesced and are covering the city in a creamy velvet blanket. I feel isolated from reality, ensconced in a pocket universe but still able to listen to the dulcet tones of the amazing Citadel marching band blaring from my bedroom stereo, reminding me of a distant place in time and space where important parts of my soul will always dwell, my ironically personal Dixie.

I fell asleep and woke thinking of Diana, … again, it’s become a ritual. It would be a sacred ritual if only she’d been lying next to me, but she’s not. I wonder if she ever will be and whether if she does, her personal magic will dispel the gloom of April 22nd’s Eve. I kind of think it would.

Prayers for the Huntress ever Virgin
in hopes that that particular appellation
will soon be an anachronism
and every day a blessing
_______

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