We have set off in the morning to see the earth. Fraught with the fear of finding it consumed, or partially taken by that which we cannot see, blinds us to the point of causing the way to bring in what we think is there, or not there, and holding us back from the vision of reality.
Through tainted eyes, brought dark by emotion and bare feelings, we see the leaves gone, the bare armed trees floundering in the wind, the grasses still brown and the leaves stacking up wretchedly toward the blackened sky.
The temperature of our face and our gaze is cold, abjectly throwing us out of kilter and into the the looks of those who saw so forthrightly before us for generations, and peered through the artifice of destiny into reality.
Cry me not here. Stare not into the feeble weakness of the limited air around us, seeking that golden air beyond, and forbidding us of seeing that particular thing that stands so close unto our faces.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Marla Bolton
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