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In the night, a firefly blinks
a single speck of light, a mote, a flake
flung into a slow, black, sloe-black
river of loneliness
the gnarled fingers of the darkling forest
seeking a silent echo
Tags: hope, future, fireflies
It rained on our drive home from Vancouver. Although “rained” doesn’t adequately describe the downpour. Genesis says that at creation, God “divided the waters above from the waters below.” On that drive home, the waters above and below re-united.
There was so much rain on the road that our car used four extra litres of fuel going home than going out, on exactly the same road, just squishing water out of the way of the tires.
I would have looked for an Ark, if I could have seen it through a windshield streaming with water.
Oddly, my rearview mirrors were still clear. Because the rain wasn’t hitting them at all. I could see clearly, back down the highway.
It reminded me of one of Marshall McLuhan’s aphorisms: "We drive into the future using only our rearview mirror."
It’s a metaphoric way of saying that we can’t see into the future.
Categories: Soft Edges
Tags: Moses, McLuhan, future, past, rearview mirror, rain