The trees are trapped. The way they were just plugged into the pavement. The way they were forced into the earth. Crammed into the earth. Through silver rings. And all lined up.
Quick growing trees. Forced-upward trees. Silver birches.
What punishment is being served here? What would they have done in a former life? What karmic retribution?
And water! The betrayal of water! The harnessing of water!
Doesn’t water know better? Isn’t water anarchic?
Commandeering water’s desire to flow. Making water flow decoratively, obediently. Subordinating water to metal and stone.
Could water just bust out of all this. Burst its banks. Overflow. Run over the pavement in great waves. Couldn’t water lick at the bases of the great towers? Erode away the stone? Over generations, but patiently.
Isn’t water on our side? Isn’t water our agent, in our service, doing water’s work, our work, on the Organisational Management campus? Can’t we even look to water with hope. To water’s flow?
Can’t we even pray for water, or let water pray for us?
Our sympathy with water. The secret pull of water. Don’t our tears, starring on our cheeks, long to rejoin the great flow?
Water, our secret friend. Water, our secret ally.
Are there underground rivers, water seeping through soil, beneath the carefully laid out paving stones?
Water, doing good work. God’s work. Water, dreaming as it flows, light on its back.
Water, dreaming our dreams, dreaming with us and for us.
So that we only have to look out at the water to know hope is there, our hope, the hopes for the world.
Let the snow fall, really snow, not just a few flakes, but covering the campus. Let the snow obliterate the campus, bury it.
Let some great flood come, some great impossible flood. Let it rain like it did in Noah’s day. And let it sweep the campus away, and sweep us away, too. We want Biblical rain.
The whispering of water. The constancy of water. Doing our work.
Water will win, right? There’s a watery revolution – always. Ongoing. On our side. And patient. The work of decades. Of generations.
They can’t control the water, can they? Water’s just playing along. Water’s merely going along with it. Water’s biding its time. Water’s patient. Water will outlast this. And water knows that.
Water, melting it all. Deliquescing the campus.
Water in great pools, looking upwards – that’s what we need. Water, lying in pools, reflecting the sky. Instead of all this.
Work in Progress 