In his Correspondences, Baudelaire gives nature an intelligence and empathy that embraces all of creation. Man is shown as part of this grand opus but moves through it unaware of his intermingling and engagement with the whole, on an unremitting and constant rhythm. The metaphysical power of Baudelaire's words imbues the reader with a sense of being in a magical arbor, where time is slowed and one may observe as if from the shadows. And perhaps man still lives in those shadows. I respond with my "modern" perspective and turn the view on its head to see what else may be plumbed from the depths:
Amidst the arms of gloaming stillness,
Suckling sweet dew from vestigial remains
Sight, sound and sensuality mingle,
A carousing trinity, dimly perceived
In their bright license, by the shadow-Man
Where once a shade was indistinct,
Indiscernible from twilight and radiance,
Caliginous robes, now, betray presence
Dressed without virile perspicuity,
Raiment devoid of colors, tang and coolness
Like thread through cloth, Shadow infuses
and is infused by the fabric-land, sea, air
Lives in the eclipse, and is noted by the stars,
Travels aromatic paths unhindered, oblivious
of the eleemosynary blessing of kindred souls
Green as the rind of melons, the arbor encloses
Inumbrates the shade, wrapping and overhanging
Its lively borders with the citrus balm of oranges,
Trilling dulcet fragrances, sighing scents
And feathery perfumes, bathing itself in
The redolent memories of shadow-children
who came before and breathed in unison
With the celestial and the ordinary
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