Towards the centre of the page, I drew a small “V”.
Just two rapid pencil flicks.
A “V” with slightly curving arms.
And in that instant, into that empty space
came an up an a down, four points of the compass
and a magnetic north.
All shackled together by the frayed tethers of gravity.
There was altitude, depth and direction.
It had speed and velocity, perspective and purpose.
There was also a sense of apprehension.
The foreboding shadow of imminent danger.
The scene now had an atmosphere and a climate.
A cloud splitting breeze and thermals that rose and fell
like the tide below.
Yes that simple act had created oceans, land and air.
It had divided them by an unseen horizon,
out there but invisible to the naked eye.
Mountains, rivers and continents so easily crumpled into a ball.
So easily hooked into a waste basket,
the one loitering quietly over there by the door.
