Description: if I am invisible, I cannot feel pain
the magician erased me -------------------------------------------
I gave me up in a mushroom cloud
and light seemed to strike from every angle
could it be the philosopher's stone
has rubbed me smooth?
a sparkle once died
but once again my life
when me is forgotten
finds creation as its metaphor
a simple sacrament
bears a stone cast into water
the waves connect
hourglass from above
rays outward
every wish for heaven's power
mine to use if what
I claim is given
I drift
sun among the clouds
that hide a brilliance
I cannot claim
for if I did
I would blind
'...whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport.
General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere.
Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love.
If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspision love actually is all around...'
and so it seems that is the case here, in nan world because you write of love a lot - and i find that reassuring. i can come here and take a deep breath of something good.
i like 'i gave me up in a mushroom cloud'. it is awkward but eloquent at the same time and that sits well with how i view my own world.
you somehow make the difficult to conceive easy to swallow in a way that 'philosophy for dummies' might or in a way that a re-write of 'a cruel madness' without the tragedy and the words that are longer than wheelbarrow might.
when one is not a number, it is easier to count to two...
your first strophe:
a nuclear winter, but also a chance for new life to germinate, even amongst barrenness and mutations. a dichotomy between strangeness and naturalness, between what is meant to be and fate pulling in multiple directions. then the mention of alchemical transformation: lead dust to gold rays of sunlight, wisdom, the sheer clarity which can also blind.
your second:
meditative, connecting dots between this plane and the ones below and under, outward circles, rippling, cause and effect, action and consequence, karma. what do each of us claim in between breaths, in our own heads? yours is healing, as is mine; this is what we share.
your third:
we all drift, envisioning, clarifying, searching for the sacred and the defining moments which push us forward and on, wanting... it all to continue yet end. full circle, where is the end?
Submission Name: the magician erased me
