“Yes, of Course”
Yes, of course, it’s in the silences, the gaps; what isn’t there,
A kind of saving grace. Yes, it’s in the wrist and more, a second
Maiden voyage. The news announces daily the Titanic’s jocund
Journey redux, greater for revision less the ware
And less absorbing in the loss of souls from rarer thinner air
Brought faithfully to task but mind you nonetheless a reckoning
Within a construct; no! an edifice of remembrances within the seconding
Of resolutions that determines Elliot’s wave within the self-defining stare
Of relative modernity; but one tsunami in eternity amid the voids of space.
The promise of redemption’s found in balances of degrees
In praise of beauty in the sun spots’ mighty aura, the aurora in the fray
Of loose inebriating Northern Lights–try distraction while you pray–
Try the Northwest Passage in the making high above the Arctic’s former grace
Notes, rhythms in the writ, a metaphor in G, perhaps, but played in C.
“There was peace and the world had an even tenor to it’s way. Nothing was revealed in the morning, the trend of which was not known the night before. It seems to me that the disaster about to occur was the event, that not only made the world rub its eyes and awake, but woke it with a start, keeping it moving at a rapidly accelerating pace ever since, with less and less peace, satisfaction and happiness. To my mind the world of today awoke April 15, 1912. – Jack Thayer, Titanic Survivor
Posted in Affirmation, Ôm, Balance, Certitude, Chaos, Civilisation, Cycles, End Times, Eternity, Imagery, Lyric Poetry, Poetry, Samsara, Ships, Sonnet, Zeitgeist
Tagged End Times, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Northern Lights, Sonnet, Sonnets, Sun spots, Titanic, Tragic Flaw
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 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.
Posted in Age, Aging, All or nothing, Anger, Arrogance, Atom, Balance, Certitude, Cosmic paths, Humility, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Age, Aging, End Times, Existence, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Relationships, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets, Tragic Flaw
With balances between necessity and plan–
The wife, the work, the friend–the three provide
A triad of security, and adjuncts to the ego, His swollen will at once subsides
Of course yet in collision, profusion in the offspring of propinquity. A man’s
Foundation will subdue or soften accidental fears, and nearly all confusion.
Men and wives unite to qualify the sanctity of introspection in both their lives.
The right hand knows what’s in the rites of progeny; the left, the hive’s
Eternal invocation, and mutual rapport from positive judicial collusion
Attracts the light within a close exchange and intercourse. With the friend–
The natural measure–labours then ordained support the whole
Of both the man and all that he can be, the sum of wife, friend, and all his roles,
Holy ballast in the ship, in surest navigation on a line of progress to the end.
The rudder his, so, too velocity, and all his energy: he breathes
First in then out in perfect ease and knows what he’s achieved.
Posted in Balance, Chaos, Family, Fidelity, Poetry, Relationships, Service
Tagged Friend, Lyric Poetry, Sonnets, Wife, Work