Danny James

Tag: imagination

488: Sally in the Sun

The realisation had barely settled upon the consciousness when my face had been brought home into Sally’s hands. As she whispered my name and drew close, I caught in the instant, the glimmer of long obstructed joyousness in her eyes. Suddenly, with space enough to run, and a great gasp of the soul free in the world at last.

We stood there awhile, utterly delighted and engrossed with each other, amid the crowd before the coal-face of Friday night service dissolving. They’ve occurred before in glimpses, perfect these gaps of Nature, and you’ve figured since you couldn’t be granted many more miracles similar.

We talked at the centre of a hurricane with the sun smiling perfectly overhead at the mouth. Actualized and fully engaged with the moment, we felt the surge of a vast and thrilling current, brimming to the surface yet remained all the while at ease in the deep and holy intoxication that overlapped our traumas.
”I didn’t want to interrupt,” She said genuine, unblinking and ablaze. I wished as soon as it left her lips that she had, and I would have immediately let my responsibilities crumble for the encounter.
I couldn’t help but consider, as Sally spoke how that if she were not already spoken for, her hands were a perfect fit for mine; her waist, impossibly alluring and I could see us laughing at many good times gone by as we lay next to each other on a sunlit hillside overlooking the Steel City, some years ahead of tonight. Just as I had finished imagining these things Sally had motioned with a sideways glance and rather quickly, that she was in fact here with her fianc√© and his family celebrating, something that I couldn’t quite translate through appreciating the rapture of her returning smile. Sally was always so infectiously easygoing and buoyant about the future and yet I was detecting somewhere here with her, moments of stuttered thought and a gazing solemnity with but a whit of an unresolved irritation.

We parted with proprieties and cautious glances and that, I estimated was unfortunately to be the necessary end. Stricken is the heart under spell of the imagination.

403: Banks and Angels

You were cautious this time to restrain the hearts heat and slow the imaginations hurry to dilate the moment o the hearts insisting, but lo; how you were shaken of your plans when strolled thee into your life unapologetically strong and glowing against the evenings lights. But for many-a-days with thoughts spent swelling the past, when enters an angel expressing interest in going with you a-ways promising at last a life serene would you have found far nearer than had forever implied, the haven of your days. How we struggle to receive what we have not practice in giving and despair at the injuries in our Nature, contracting afraid against that loveliness before us we suffer most to behold.


Reading art thou winged.


Mostly, the writing is a figuring out of things. A naturally occurring process which, when with interfered by my own confused and fearful intemperance, it is quickly understood that a necessary something is lost; A clear and perhaps sometimes simple – sometimes savage veracity, that retains yet a dimension of frightful grace and symmetry that I cannot tolerate yet for having no answer for as though one were needed, and the babel hides me well.

258: Lovers of truth

Whose curiosity of the world has managed to withstand the training in apathetic contentment, will eventually return the long way home to where wasn’t good enough before, and concluding this is all to be got of travel.

210: With heart of little weight

My, the adventures I go on within the span of moments.


A blank page and a freshly risen intellect, is like a clear stream, a fine breeze and a view of morning free and unhindered of anything at all; pure and bracing already, and space enough for what enter may.

153: Of sorrow we shall never sing

Struck thereupon a chance encounter with an awe never known so remarkable, the intellect dazed suddenly forgets its wealth, and allows to overtake the keen heart depleting on the occasion; building upon the moment, an entire Citadel of new ideals, and finds himself with little resource to un-imagine once begun the construct of his most vivid wishes. Though trace insight resists and eyes the oncoming, willing he hurries his mutiny overcome and perseveres after the things which are only everlasting until they are not.

146: Unfolding

The many heart whelming wonderments on grand and open display on Earth, and the countless thrilling prospects for life that, by courageous pursuit gifts curiosity, most terribly can not all be heeded. Not in the one tiny lightning span of furiously and incrementally dying star-matter, ye speck of darting ideas and burning unanswerable yearning, – all the age of the cats-eye cosmos in which you drift reproachingly dispossessed is meager. And with this impermanence of everything except desires capacity, rides a horridness and beatitude of the matters marble finality, in swirls of knotted letting go, and inconsolable affections.
It was under a glaze of April stars a bright man once said in passing, ”you do not need to know it all, but you need to know that it exists,” and with his cryptic wistful knowledge of a liquid future, folded into the arms of Autumn night forever. And standing there at the forests mouth fixed on the abyss of living shadows for what seemed an unverifiable lastingness, trying to anything from nothing decide when suddenly it fell to my senses to interpret a grave impossible error realised. All that ecstasy of hope and youthful nonchalance became an unconvincing foothold on a berg, and peering out from the precipice, was a stare that resembled the cold recognition of an unquestionable period in loom. Clean of its laughter, gloom and growth, the entire globes face shall be wiped, – all myth, ambition, strife and persevering preciousness overlapped, and a new transience for a time will flourish with the same world-old obvious riddles that have been only now to you unveiled and will as ever ensue. Against this, have you no recourse. Fortune abides no finery of preference upon whom perceives the tenure either an absurd string of predestined miracles, or an accidental monotony of spilled instances and interactions. These things that ne’er may be considered save by who withdraws from the spinning to contemplate the sentiments of his sentient fraction of forever. While for some, fettered up in some distracting drudgery or other the glimpse will not occur. The portals, will simply close unnoticed and with them gone that chance particular for a vision different if at least not better. But you, bursting, all exulting traveller, for whom the sheerness and extent of eternal synergy is unbearably inaccessible; how dreadfully fatal to admit that could anything be for nought on a lumbering sphere, wading mute with its meaninglessness across a pool of black infinity. So you’ve applied your fantastic and rhythmless imagination to making do, – with its vastness of irrational potency, the source of both your cleanest and most contagious of rejoices, and severest despairing. Well sir, after the crash and fallout, and gravity of presupposed pointlessness, some of us kept on wondering; and so we keep wandering, so as not to have missed a single worthwhile thing.


My character softens unirritated in the hazy afternoon of life and with enduring things that have shadows concerns itself, for fewer honourable engrosses remain. The quickened steel of Auroral days matures an apprehension, and beyond camp have meditations lingered in broadening circles of superstitious instinct. Agonising, that I have seen much and weighed all, yet wonder, by what unfufillment this wondering grows, – that rather than remedy would I sooner know?’

Indulging the stupor of these binges where newness and rapturous unreality lures, the mind forgets its pretence of healthy independence, and imbibes the memory of better days knowing now none were better as then. My mind was strongest then, that now anchors a greater gamble for happiness to another, perceiving the utmost explanation of existence, and embodiment of which is impossible, but where fancy reigns and gladly submits my consciousness; the prospect of soon her image shall appear, the ruling entreat for absorptions idle and dried long of astonishment. I do not like hitherto I am allowing, though curiosities outpace the danger, and against too-tired reasoning, creativity holds present advantage. I will a little further still. Soul, be ready