If you think so -------------------------------------------
A grace
and fickle passion
which I say is all too fleeting and gentle:
moonshine and the taste of rope around my neck
soothes yet restrains because making sense
becomes all too tedious.
Speak of virtue
when none is left to share
over a mountaintop or a table
studded with a lamb and rosemary-shaded roast,
over garlic and the snap of onion, slow-baked
until golden perfection fills that space.
To be twenty-eight soon
and understand that wisdom is elusive
and a home for giants which may or could exist
because that's the way of it
and this is my reasoning
for emptiness.
Dare me to hope
for nights co-joined in sorrow
and the open ocean breathing fire
in some sort of relentless paradox, of shadow
and the unearthly stain of vitality wishing there
could be one more reason for existence.
Philosophy is my home.
My stone. My anchor. My apparent joy.
An unending story. A flight into the unknown.
never dare philosophers to speak
for they will spark stars from common stone
and adjure crowds to look upon their poor self torture
as they pen their pleas in blood and flood the stars
with words made sinews twisted as a tree
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.
one of my favorite passages from The Prophet
I have tried a few times over to bring my thoughts to the forefront and to no avail...I will save this one... tuck it away until these emotions/feeling/thoughts settle enough to be heard clearly.
p.s
it is totally unfair to leave a flying cow and not be able to reciprocate due to the fact your page is beautiful once again and my shenanigans would ruin it ...so here
there
This is really beautiful, and the song posted has a mood that fits the piece. I love the moonshine and roped neck reference... classic, vogue, and totally sets the mood for the following of simpleness... aging and learning, over roasts and vegetables and all the things we soak our sustenance from... My apparent joy. How tingling that is... nice word play. It would be nice to be here for a reason, wouldn't it? Make things so tidy and unfrayed on the nerve endings... Our Purpose, please, give us Our Purpose....
Dare me to hope
for nights co-joined in sorrow
and the open ocean breathing fire
in some sort of relentless paradox, of shadow
and the unearthly stain of vitality wishing there
could be one more reason for existence
Submission Name: If you think so
