They were impoverished.
Boys were always more cherished.
So, the birth of a girl did not bring smiles.
What a girl did bring were many options.
All of them heart-twisting and desperate.
To lay the babe on a trash heap outside of town
seemed cold and harsh, they reasoned.
Wild beasts might painfully finish her off.
Tossing her to the frothy fangs of the Yangtze,
she might get battered into painful death.
They thought about putting a hand over her little mouth
but neither had the heart to do such a thing.
They could gently place her in the chamber pot and seal off the top.
At the very least, it would be dark and quiet.
But any pot would forever be a constant reminder.
They finally decided, like millions before, to place her in a basket.
Perched high in the arms of a tree.
Her last day or two would be spent amidst birdsong.
Gently kneading her soul into prayer wheels.
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
I felt a Stranger in my Mind—
A Tenant—uninvited—
He rearranged the modest Rooms
My Quiet had delighted—
He spoke in tones I could not claim—
Yet wore my Voice’s Thread—
And every Thought I tried to own
Turned backward—when he led—
I reasoned with his phantom Will—
He answered—not as Me—
But as a fractured Looking-glass
Reflects—uncertainly—
The Soul—accustomed to its Shape—
Now falters—at the Sight—
Of Motions—foreign to its Core—
Performed—in borrowed Light—
Is this the Self—or some Eclipse
That dims what once was Whole?—
A Doubt—persistent as a Pulse—
Unsettling the Soul—
Yet somewhere—past the noisy Rift—
A Stillness—true—abides—
No Stranger may inherit That—
Though all the Mind divides—
A POETIC FUSION -:-
personal
timeless
pictures
mindless
limitations
of FLOURISHING PLURIALITY
considered
reasoned
prerequisite
executed
ideas
in IDEAS EXPRESSED
harmoniously
linked
efflorescently
still
extant
“This (Self) is neither knowable nor the instrument of knowing. It is neither reason nor the one to be reasoned about. It is beyond the reach of words. It is neither mind nor intelligence. How then can I speak this Truth to you? I am the nectar of Knowledge, homogeneous Existence, like the sky”
Presence that remains, when polarities merge,
positioned outside the matrix of space-time,
burn in body urn, we feel as a bliss surge,
is God’s heartbeat, which we eternally mime.
We cannot attain yet we can so become,
light that lights all lights, the very cosmic hum,
all around, immediate and intimate,
pulsation of the Self, that does not abate.
Plato was dazzled by the numbers' dance.
Their interlocking rhythms made a song
which must have come from God, since they alone
stood unmoved in the welter of the world.
The flushed and youthful flank, the glancing eye
articulate with desire, and quick response
to fly or flutter near, that so engaged
passions so deep they had to be eternal,
all withered to the slack and fusty dugs
of each day’s lying truth, that drip the sour
after-mockery of joy gone stale.
But in the reasoned frenzy of proportion,
strong as steel and delicate as fire,
he found a lust refined of all corruption,
the rapture of the body in the mind.
---------------------------------------------------------------
possibilities
implied
intrigue
reasoned
&
intoned
the
bizarre
unfinished
undefined
throughout
motion halts
possibilities
of
closure
..remain
The feast, it happened, of Saints Peter and Paul.
I’d called in early for a final look
at Saint Teresa in her cosy nook
before the tourists made a shopping mall
of this delightful church. My plans on stall
(for Mass was under way), I soon forsook
my statue contemplation, since the hook
the sermon dangled caught me in its thrall.
Those two great saints of Roman pedigree
had done their time in prison, unlike us,
but (said the priest) our new captivity
is of our own creation – reasoned, thus:
“The Prison of the Ego”. Yes, that’s me.
To add one word would be superfluous.
Simply to put text that we cannot cover anything complex
There was a simplified version of every object-- an annex
The loss of everything to put it understandable; loosing context
Was like cutting all of the trees just to portray land like Lorax
Though, where we put things behind the bars is just the manifesto
Everything could be described out and reasoned with a memo
I was warned by Spinoza, that not everything fits out and can be a reductio
So, would a man be reasoning out of everything killing complexity would be a maestro
A virtuoso indeed, to be smart that it leaps every precautionary never stumbled
Wish I was that man to hide complexity, to assign simplicity-- oversimplified
But, I would lose the essence of dopamine in searching question categorized
As I would never understand if short text means something to unconcealed
My friend is sad and so am I
For different reasons I ask Him, ‘why?’
He looks at me neither bold nor blue.
A light glows pink in merry hue.
She called me up and poured her mind
I felt the same, of a different kind.
When spirit’s measure stretched at length
I woke up to find, I’ve lost all strength.
She has been trying to dry out her tears
While I here, myself was driving my fears.
No one to share my feelings drawn
I gathered strength to fill her morn.
With laughter and light she retired to bed
I worked the night, was awake instead.
Today it was told it’s not required
I had my share of the pain I shared.
Then reasoned out ‘was it all meant
To surrender my wisdom or my strength?’.
He looked at me and waited long-------
Till I blew my breath of scorn
Was that how You cleaned my eyes?
Was it healthy for the spirit to rise?
My friend’s laughter at the end of the call
Made me realize once and for all
My hard work somewhere has paid me well
I have reasons for love to dwell.
Love for Him came naturally, through,
I looked at Him and felt so blue-----
He could have gone but He never did.
He had to show me my greatest need.
Giddy is happy and happy is good!
And giddy with reason is as it should!
And should happy be reasoned and giddy sometimes
Then rest but joyful in happy giddy times!
It’s not easy walking away
Its not harder to feel alone
I have words with no way to say
There is a world and just my home
I did not look back
I did not want to say goodbye
Courage perhaps or wisdom lack
Without words… can I still lie?
Each step… each thought
Brings me closer and further
I’m free yet caught
Was walking away worse or better?
It feels unreal yet solemn
How nothing can become everything
Can feelings be reasoned?
When only oneself knows what it means…
Something I wanted to say
Instead… I went home
It’s hard walking away
Easier to just be alone
………….
Song : Gloomy Day by Hwang Sang Jun
Who wanted without the knowing
And grew without the sowing
Standing there in awkward stance
Viewing all with eyes askance
Asking without reasoned why
Reaching vain to touch the sky
For in whose hands with futile grip
The beams of sun and moon doth slip
And lips that sing the lullabies
Seldom heard but often cried
The feast, it happened, of Saints Peter and Paul.
I’d called in early, for a final look
at Saint Teresa in her cosy nook,
before the tourists made a shopping mall
of this delightful church. My plans on stall
(for Mass was under way), I soon forsook
my statue contemplation, since the hook
the sermon dangled caught me in its thrall.
Those two great saints of Roman pedigree
had done their time in prison, unlike us,
but (said the priest) our new captivity
is of our own creation – reasoned, thus:
“The Prison of the Ego”. Yes, that’s me.
To add one word would be superfluous.
The rings of Saturn
are more than a ring to be skated on
for they are not rings at all
rather an icy circle around a circle
a place for the mind to imagine and create
blossoms upon blossoms
that will never exist, nor be dreamed of
yet, to skate upon its surface
is a further thing to do
a whimsical moment... perhaps
like a child seeing a ship in the clouds
giving sense to what's unsensible
a game of the mind, to see the icy curve
to feel the speed of motion
to wrap around Saturn, like a bug around a lamp
only to find death without purpose
an imagery so reasoned as to be real
as the blade of the skate becomes useless
falling away in time and space
tearing the blade from the icy circle
leaving nothing behind but a trail of dust
trapped in the ice with the last flicker of imagination
that was captured in a moment of lunacy
where anything is possible
even skating on the rings of Saturn
I'd like to thank you (you're so nice)
for all your well-reasoned advice.
Without you, I would sure be lost,
forgetting to be brushed and flossed.
I wonder how I got this far
without you, wisdom's superstar.
From everything that you have said,
you must think I don't have a head.
I am so very error prone,
dare I strike out on my own?
I would like to return your gift:
should you find yourself adrift,
I think the most practical advice
is to wear a coat if you see ice.
The ocean's cold. I hope you don't freeze.
Hold onto this anchor please.
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