Rain is no respecter of persons
the snow doesn’t give a soft white
damn Whom it touches
- e e cummings
Deep winter in the northland. Snow falls from the sky and settles around the cabin. It creates a stillness, a muted motif of meaninglessness as a monochromatic canvas stretched before me.
It seems it is perpetually night. Days go by, and I do not see the sun. I go to work in the dark, and return home the same way. Bound to a schedule, I miss the few hours of daylight offered. The sky is overcast, and has settled into a starless, moonless, ubiquitous gray. The world appears as an endless repetition with no horizon.
But I know the winter solstice approaches. It will soon be here. And the solstice brings transition and change, warmth and light, spring's hues and new beginnings.
From the promises of its palette, I mix and dab, and paint the cold, dark, empty canvas before me. I make sense out of nonsense, and nonsense out of sense. I create meaning in the world.
I am my own Picasso.
- The Fool