~ 12th May ~
There is a thinness, like glass, to the gaps between the clouds, and as the swifts rise up through them it seems they could go on through, on and on until the limits of the unknown. I wonder, my chest heavy at the thought, what it must feel to be so limitless. As they disappear back down behind the dark row of rooftops I long for their freedom, the sheer thoughtlessness of their cross-continental migrations. What could there possibly be between the limitlessness of swifts and me? That is a space I pray to open, a gap, cloudless, between all that could be, a space of ascension.
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