Gazing from the Moon

My eyes blink with dull passion as they are conditioned by the movements of the Seas. Seas of clouds, of water, and land. From this surreal height they all seem to merge becoming one tide of calm solitude. A blending of textures, possibilities and motion.

The clouds clash and twist, curl and shift as if a hand were pushing through an inky puddle. Their colours, stamina, their power and sensibility symbolic of a strange time. Everything passes but never ends. Adapt, modify, manipulate, evolve, but never stop. Volumes of orange-grey-black collide until one presence overwhelms and translates into another tidal layer.

A consistent appearance of water subtly conflicts with glimpses of currents and varying depth. An expanse of matter that stretches corners into curves. Abrupt stops are merged with details of exhausted waves as sea turns into shore. The sea, now with no form, filters through the once coarse and irrepressible material it has itself shaped and deposited, in search for the depth and distance it previously maintained. The shadows not the surface.

Gaps in the cloud reveal seemingly unknown patches of earth and water; their co-operation and conflict paralleled in their skies. Distance blurs movement and contours, the only beginning being a vague natural wasteland. As eyes draw closer the land is morphed by obscurity, footsteps, institution. You realise that the blank perception you once held is both exhaustingly detailed and profoundly nonsensical. The colours and shapes of land and life are illusionary.

The Seas to and fro, mask with drowning intensity just to uncover a series of moments tinted with pristine innocence.

Gazing from the Moon the three Seas of the Earth portray the ultimate reflection.