Danny James

Tag: clouds

461: Quiet days in Bondi

What of the year’s Summer? The evenings bear an Wintery air. A chill has endured for now a week and quickened us to a fresh esteem for its qualities. Delicious-to-the-eye band of Cumulus appear to sit than rather pass in quietude. Fuller, yet more dazzling and eloquent on their own, in the Suns departure.

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Tilt-shifted photo of the space shuttle Endeavor: NASA

Tilt-shifted photo of the space shuttle Endeavor: NASA

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It was a fascinating dance between night and day; a gorgeous undulation of haze and glow that made you forget quite suddenly and succinctly the things that had occupied your mind only moments ago.

Bondi

Bondi

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For a little over a month now Sydney has been swept by an habitual storm fall every Sunday, preferring its visits late in the afternoon. It’s as though the skies have been pent-up all week and delight, as we all do to finally let go. It is always the same; a short stay, a passing temper, worse in appearance than in conduct with a rather benign, even pleasant refreshing Summer afternoon quality. From the heights of my apartment have I full view of oceans from Bondi to Coogee and beyond and the contrasting sections of sky have been quite an inspiration for pause. One half still azure and awash with subtle sunlight, the other overshadowed by a crawl of dark and bulbous smoke that with each meeting so far has prevailed the initial contact but tires quick and disperses having spent itself. It might have made a fine occasion for reading had I energy to surrender at the opportunity. Still there was much in the sky to rest my attention on; the rain fell harder and straighter than previous expulsions, every drop seemingly in parallel direction and equal haste. Then it was gone and all things settled as though rain had not fallen and no agitation had occurred at all.

From Bondi, over Clovelly

From Bondi, over Clovelly

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Danny James blog sunrise

I could leave Earth and soar the open sky for the rest of my days. Hurl toward the brink untroubled, drifting home on a stream. I could circle the clouds for eternity, calm, free and satisfied. Pause to bathe in the cold suns magnificence, and drink the breeze of heavens sighs.
But I could not love you more.

Danny James Blog Ana

268: All colours soon fade

The morning begins in a blaze of luminous peach and hot pink swirls like a pooling rain of lava to fall; the light at the edge of the world and there’s not a violence in the air. No fire in the sky or gaping hell unloosed, it’s far too still, too beautiful for it, but a blinding promise of a paradise already here perhaps. And sitting over this vivid glow of reaching holiness, is a guide of perfect puffs of white cloud, arranged in a homeward going it seems, dispersed like stepping-stones of cotton for the angels trailing to a golden trapdoor haven in the sky. It peels open slowly, like a wise and ancient eye knowing all and well as it slips from the darkness milk of a century-long slumber, upon what futile routine will its look rest. This human fumbling, short-lived evaporating everlast of unbearable wonder. Peering over the sizzling lip with a brilliance unheard, our saviour orb of blood orange is roaring to ascendency, where it will sit with explosive resplendence, the very centre and light of things all and not a sound. O relief, ye smiling humble high sun, beacon to the weary confused, nothing is dispossessed of your gentle touch across the Earth, but greeting cheerfully all tears and dew and drying the surface of lack and lament like a mother’s hand. How daily new and utterly heart bewildering. There is nothing, sets right or overcomes me quite. Another chance for a fool.

And less nowadays, in these fine moments that might have been shared, comes strolling thee into my reveries mead… then does. As though within the very nature of the occasions sudden vacancy of memory embedded is a deeper and more adamant remembrance in wait. Instants, bright and fulfilling, riotous with life urge me to enquire what shade and resignation prefers. The contrast emphasis. And we cannot just go along easily, but puncture directly to the heart or hold our own from a safe screaming distance. Telling it is when I cannot sever so quickly the cords of an attachment anymore. Good soul, who found a reason to stay in the first, and last place; none so can ever leave without a trace.
‘Anyway, don’t get too caught up in it now like always, aching over the intricacies of lapping little shore breaks on the beach, or the Coasts Winter mantle of mist and whitewash and what distant winds have hither inspired them. Like a flag in the Summer sea breeze flailing tirelessly resisting the flagpole oppression it needs. Welling tears at melodies that demonstrate your gentler parts, and returning always to the same hard stoic stare of modesty and recovered order, the state from which you will again stray and which you hold most dear.’ Practice, practice, practice. It’s a rehearsal anyway, for the big last dance at midnight and it’s been the eleventh hour for almost a lifetime now. ‘Your mind you can change, and do and will, but the sky not. It is not for you but simply is. The birds, happy enough do they sail on, and you should go with their philosophy awhile, for clear days or not know there are many days, many colours and all colours soon fade.’

234: Little plane in the sky

Wherefore are you going, little plain in the sky?
What yonder doth thy ambition reside?

O man, that cannot things let lie,
And no brims passing before cloud delights.

Those hoping souls thy vessel confined,
What grief or love is put behind?

Towards great change perhaps some ye climb,
How braved uncertainty with must ride.

Mayst thou all the skies good-will imbibe,
And with none but peace thy journey collide.

littleplaneintheskydannyjamesblog

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With blinding radiance forth strides the triumphant sun from yonder tempests whelm and wipes the Earth of its teary aspect. Then comes shroud and gloom again when least it pleases, and cancels all relief. The skies no favour show to thy knotted and lusty succumb. There is no after calm, but a gap between storms and intermittent light. Have this faith.

73: West

I took West my walk today, to be nigh the Sun as she dies behind the lime prairie. The East with its darker dominion presses a blue-violet engulf and nothing can tempt me thence hath not warmer magnanimity than even a failing Winter Sun, that toppling at last hath brought down with her wan, sections of oblivion’s curtain, shaking to attention the Eastern sentry Stars. Her lamenting vapoury aids assemble, and the woeful fray permits my furtive ascension upon the lavender smears to make a smuggled and diffident escape through tangerine tears, and survive a principle legacy;

that is to shine irreverently and unconditionally with all thy worldly might, a blinding and suffuse benevolence upon all beings and their conduct, just and unjust alike, before the night, as surely it will, envelops us all.