Danny James

Tag: wonder

331: My glowing daybreak friend

My glowing daybreak friend, from the nearest reachable greeting point of this shifting globe I lunge thee toward with unbearable stillness, and will, with all the wishing might of a child at Christmas Eve, for a quicker revolution and that cardinal glimpse of thy gladdening light jovial patience rewards.

329: Light reveals wonder

Hurling toward thee, o herald of the Auroral sky, I bring news of many revolutions. So much has changed again, I wonder if you’ll perceive me anymore, as much to myself am I unfamiliar anew. But o, the things you must have seen of the world while I slept. How fares my neighbours on the other side? What colours of expression will you carry for the impression? Our reconciliations bear an amnesic appeal, that every colloquy is the first and no other and we are at once the oldest of friends and loving strangers, by attached we know not what.

Bondi, 2013

Bondi, 2013

318: The nectar

And yet we must seek astonishment and be thrived off that nectar, for cleverness no such nourishment yields.

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Temperance and simplicity, is the success of Nature. Observe her technique, whereof thou art relation. Adopt Her manner, and all will soon untie, widen, and illuminate before thee.


These days will not always betray your striving for usefulness of them, so bear cheerfully the ways of the world that is yours, – knowing that a deeper experience thence shall occur, and after will come into view beneath the abrasion to your kindly disposition, no purpose known to wonder about, and many reasons rightfully not to anyway.

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


I imagine the air over yonder fields is as crisp and health-giving as enjoyed here, and wonder if the birds that sprinkle my stage with mirth and song, inherit with abandon the skies above them thither, and I hope as much.


Our deepest desires are not hidden, but lying in wait at the end of a long trying road which, trudging forward, suddenly you will come upon and wonder how.

80: Farewell the Winter

Can such things be, and apprehend like a Winter Sun?

From its highest seat entirety is touched. Woe into dew thaws, the intellect has no answer at last. An eye cannot bear to blink. No face is unfelt of its warmth, no heart left uncheered beneath, nor does any farewell quite endear, as when it still glistening recedes behind tomorrow. The coming Spring is quite forgot.