Rampage of the Piloto and Nena Glaciers (Patagonia)

Rampage of the Piloto and Nena Glaciers

((Patagonia) (poetic prose))

Stones, Mountains—move, can be moved, and are moveable, with time, with earth’s readjustments. They walk slowly though, especially near the glaciers—not caring what it leaves behind; stones have roots, extending inside of other stones, and they rot.

I seen all this in Patagonia, where once was a mountain, then a glacier, now a valley of ice and water, all created by movements, time—matter of fact, things are still moving there, between the Piloto and Nena glaciers: as if they’re grieving. Old and new ice floating by my zodiac in clumps; blue ice, shinning from Piloto, black ice from Nena: like old men and young women, ice floats—slowly, I think at one time they could have grieved a hundred years, and not one piece of ice would have move one foot, or the glacier one inch (not so any more).

The old world here is disappearing, I see it in the glaciers receding, and this is at the end of the world. The birds in the cliffs appear unconcerned—maybe their just stubborn, and really know the dragons of heat are coming sooner than later, and really what can they can do (I’m in this Zodiac with thirteen others—if only they knew, the earth is being destroyed by our sisters, brothers—our kind).

I suppose in time, the light in the glaciers will be emptied out—a labor of playfulness by us humans, what we love we nourish, to bad, we can’t love the earth as it does us. God has no more ice in his storehouse I hear. Maybe those birds are saying: go on, be happy while you can—realizing time is of the essence for them.

Funny, these birds on the cliffs have fat bellies, too heavy to lift themselves it seems, from one place to another, yet they do with all the effort of those overworked wings. I see they are learning how to swim now—in case those wings don’t work tomorrow—I presume; I think Darwin, would have liked this spot—it appears to fit into his theory of Natural Selection (incidentally, their eggs on one side are flat, again I presume, because the cliffs are—and if they were not, they’d simply roll off).

Note: On the 18 of October 2010, I left the ship via, zodiac, and with thirteen others, went into the waterway where the two glaciers were, the Piloto and Nena. It was a cold, windy afternoon, but very constructive. No. 2857 (written: 10-23-2010)