Humility–unwieldy companion to arrogance–speaks;
In time, longevity in the Philistine at last
Ignites a divine belated blessèd anger, a righteous task
Of inevitable cosmic correction, a conscious meeting
Of place, heart, and justice inward while but a fleeting
Moment entangles exponents with reality; the hour has passed;
Its purpose, certitude. Illumination in the glass
Reveals the cosign of beauty; a faith, sans gleaming
Spark leavens all and leaves no doubt wasting nothing in its evening
—A meagre point of knowledge as with a single atom addressed at last
Avoiding capture in the very act of viewing.
No substitute for misconstruing
Immortality for license, this thing must grasp
A certain concrete action plausible in similitude and innuendo
As all natural pains reverse themselves in their own crescendo.



“The Midnight Hymn”

by Friedrich Nietzsche
[ 1844 A.D. – 1910 A.D.]

Oh man!  Take heed!
What does the deep midnight say?
I slept!
I have awakened from a deep dream.

The world is deep.
And deeper than the day remembers.
Deep is its suffering.

Joy is deeper yet than heartache!

Suffering speaks:  Begone!

All joys want eternity,
Want deep, deep eternity.

2 responses to ““Humility”

  1. If Alice of Wonderland, M. C. Escher, and a Swiss watchmaker suddenly tumbled into a crucible of mystical-mirror shards… there would I also expect to find the encryption key to your sonnets. They are so loaded with omni-directional signals & signs that they compel the reader to shrug off formatory preconceptions and feel the truth on-the-fly, in the fluid, prior to logic and those ripples of time that falsely garb each moment. You expose the naked emperor by un-hinging the particles of each line. And, at some indefinable place, each poem assemble unexpected meaning… usually just where, as you say, “all natural pains reverse themselves in their own crescendo.” Yes. Humility is more subtle and dynamic than we ever suppose, even: “unwieldy”.

    • .

      Well, after years of silence on the part of anyone who has read my poetry, it is probable that silence stemmed not so much from lack of interest or receptivity, but rather from poverty of language to express the simplicity of what it is I express in spite of the seeming complexity of my manner of expression. The same in reverse happens within my experience in writing.

      The worlds I see and experience are absolutely bewildering. Both Prophets and fools attest to the same so I feel I am in good company. Since I am obviously not a prophet, I suppose there is no shame in the admission that I must be a fool, and in that precious and ordained station I find a guarded redemption. Within the scope of that absolution I joy in the admission that I know what I am and make no effort to mask or disguise it: thus my attempts to write poems not so much to discover the foolishness of humanity [although the vanity and foolishness of humanity is everywhere and evident] but to discover the even greater observation that this state of affairs is ordained and sanctioned by Creation and by no means earned.

      It has always until now been a joy to write what I long to read in the writings of others or to hear when I have the opportunity to listen to what is left of conversation sans mere phatic exchanges of either cliché or parrot-like discourse of plagiarised “wisdom.” Poetic conventions both enable and smother the process and to find the balance is open to me only when I have enough humility in the scheme of whatever my motives happen to be when writing to recognise the fact that life, itself, is “so loaded with omni-directional signals & signs that,” it, “ compel[s,] the,” mind, heart, and soul, “to shrug off formatory preconceptions and feel the truth on-the-fly, in the fluid, prior to logic and those ripples of time that falsely garb each moment.” as you have so beautifully commented.

      In this instance, your comment has wonderfully allowed me to read what it is I long to read from someone who has taken the time to read what I have written which has both joyed my soul and amazed me for a moment or two. I thank you for this and for the time it took you to attempt the comprehension of my sonnet, unit it with previous efforts to read many sonnets of mine and to hit the nail on the head with your comments.

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