And but so, I was out photographing last night. I had my camera fixed on a chain link fence covered by a tarp or something of the sort, though my focus was really on a light beyond the tarp, beautiful distortion in the weave.
About 15 feet above me, a street light hummed. I glanced up, and stretching down from the lamppost to the top of the fence, I saw two thin strands of a web. They waved gently in the wind, and they came and went from my vision as the strands caught the light and then moved back into darkness. It was quite lovely, a simple poetry.
I then had this thought, after a few weeks in my own darkness, that perhaps seeing so much of our darkness helps to better understand beauty. And then I thought of a poem by Czeslaw Milosz a friend sited in a recent letter to me:
…put on the very edge of the abyss/a table,/And the table a glass, a pitcher/and two apples…
It’s really the same thought I had watching the web strands sway under the light, that in such a broken world, simple beauty can be enough.