Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. . . .
—Prospero, The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1
A bridge half-swallowed by fog seems the stuff of disturbed dreams.
But it seems equally otherworldly to happen in a city upon fields of grapefruit-sized lavender flowers, or fairy dwellings–or to see Suessian scarlet roping spilling from around a tree, a misty reflected shoreline, and layered clouds bubble and bruise before folding themselves into lambs and lions while children listen to their bedtime stories.
My life may be short on revels, but even in daylight hours it can hold the dream world’s gloriously non-linear tumult, discord, and mystery.
- Follow Love in the Spaces on WordPress.com
Top Posts & Pages
- Good dogs. twitter.com/paldhous/statu… 1 day ago
- RT @neiltyson: Show me a Nation with a science-hostile government, and I'll show you a society with failing health, wealth, & security. 1 day ago
- RT @ThatSpanishLady: Easily the best protest sign anyone has ever made #MarchForScience #EarthDay https://t.co/uf6pNfIEXT 1 day ago
- RT @DannyZuker: As a kid I watched men walk on the moon & dreamed of the future. Thought by 2017 we'd be on Mars, not marching to defend sc… 1 day ago
Follow me on TwitterMy Tweets