Sailing, Not Searching.

I was searching faces yesterday for signs of wisdom, or at least a sense of enquiry. I didn’t see any. No one looked sideways to view the colours, the textures, the relationships of space, the imperfections, the integrity of an angle, the tonal distortions in a reflection.

And neither was it written in any face that there was some awareness of the unique atmosphere which touches every place at different times. All eyes were on the next footfall, or the corresponding eyes of a companion with whom they were engaged in everyday conversation, or the little piece of nondescript crockery which had caught their attention in a charity shop.

And so it seemed to me that I was watching numerous little planets sailing blithely and alone through the cosmos, occasionally touching the orbits of other little planets similarly engaged, and none of them were looking outwards to view the stars and maybe the heaven beyond or within.

I plead guilty, although to what I’m not quite sure.