the journals of those... -------------------------------------------
...with access to a safe
can be read by kind permission;
can be fed on the inspiration of a secret goose-down world.
one in which
'you are the wind beneath my wings'
is trite and half true only.
the authors of journals with access to a safe
will not feel a need to bind them,
yet still have them placed beyond the wit of others to find them
out
side by side and pressed tight ,
the close-wrote pages bleed their heat into one another,
like an osmosis of the spirit
and that is all i have to say about that...
yes the journals of those with access to a roof;
to a cliff;
to a white-capped horizon and a fast running skiff
will show what is thought of kindness,
when it is time to name a star;
or a bird;
or a small but perfectly formed bright blue french car...
whatever claims magnificence is exactly what deserves it
but I must say the knack for everything around us to be
astonishing is simply in the eye of the beholder and certainly
is amplified by his mate
I really liked this one, subtle and just so you, the key to our inner
world is precious and we don't give to everyone
it is reasonable to suppose, that
those that place their journals beyond the wit of others to find them would only invite their most trusted
friend to read them. i would not expect to find
triteness and half truths in these pages. here would be expressed the rawness of every emotion. not gilded or dressed up in anyway to soften those expressions of feelings that might offend a stranger or casual reader. these pages are not out to impress. they may be well illustrated, but
there would be no soft focus images here. complexions would be scrubbed and devoid of
the enhancements of Lancôme essentials and max factor.
these unbound pages would have no need to disguise the vulnerability and frailty of the one that pressed them tightly. here one would find those truisms that only exist between those that understand oddness.
this is a rare intimacy, where blue energy is intuitively exchanged in a spiritual osmosis. since this is represented by the Greek letter psi, i think you have chosen a very appropriate way to express this natural phenomenon that works behind the scenes to bring about an equilibrium of sorts. be it up on the roof or on a cliff.
'I'm sure in her
You'll find the sanctuary.'
oh to be flying across a white capped horizon in a high performance skiff! i have not missed the significance that this would feature an asymmetrical spinnaker that would require the crew to be wired up on a trapeze to help to balance the boat. i should imagine that fear of rocking the boat would be the main reason why those with access to a safe, stash their journals in them… which is where we came in.
so,
while those that are balancing on the edge or on a steep gradient with the world whizzing past their ears and their splash deck at a rate of knots, are ostensibly thinking of rewarding kindnesses by naming birds and cars and stars,
the odd remain in the vault; tightly bound with their treasured memories luminous in the heat of their smoldering pages.
i am left wondering:
would the spiritual art of naming a star or a bird or a car (even a perfectly formed bright blue french one) be sufficient to balance that trapeze? only those that walk a tight rope with some regularity, would be able to answer that one.
i agree with Alia.
you are very clever.
reading this has unearthed a sea of emotions.
so as a piece of poetry it most definitely works.
Lovely journal.
You have some brilliant shiny gems in there.
'osmosis of the spirit'
'white-capped horizon'
and I especially love
'when it is time to name a star;
or a bird'.
~
'She Sells Sanctuary' is one of my all-time favorites, too.
One of those songs that folds time back onto itself
revealing emotions and sensations of long ago
as if they were of this very moment. Right down to the acrid smells of clubs and a quickened pulse.
Cool beans, that.
Always.
~
Thanks for the kind permission to read this journal.
Submission Name: the journals of those...
