Going to the Mountain Is Going Home: The beginning of a story...

Sunday, January 16, 2011

The beginning of a story...

Helena notices the quick darkness of the dense forest on either side of the mountain pass. It calls her in, inviting her to run blindly through the trees. She presses her forehead against the passenger window, squints her eyes, and tries to imagine what it would feel like to fly like that.

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God's Grandeur

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

-Gerard Manley Hopkins