The Slow Flow of Glasgow: Between the Bridges

Between the bridges
Along the river
The Earth bows
Before the solar godhead...

As I walk between the Arc Bridge and the Squinty Bridge, a mile (barely a mile!) of bliss, I pass beneath the Kingston Bridge, opened in the week of my birth (in June 1970), and as I do and the Earth (at least this small part of her) catches the last of the sun's rays, I think to myself (it's only later upon reflection that I think, really) that my birth has finished - I have become. Samsara (the eternal becoming) is over. 'Being' irradiates as a searing whiteness, like the incandescent spans of the Squinty Bridge.

I head into the city, empty and whole...