Category Archives: Curse

…in interaction and appreciation of the poetic words of Alexander M. Zoltai…

All is
Lost but the
Chance to
Lose it

…in interaction and appreciation of the poetic
words above of

Alexander M. Zoltai… []

Aptly expressed; a delicious thought, actually.
There is unequalled truth to this, the bailiwick
of those who know no doubt that blessings and curses
of this life are in fact inexhaustible, inextinguishable.

What is left then, but Creation, itself? What courage
does it take to approach all aspiration and consummation
in the ashes? Every planet’s doom is reunion with its star;
every star, its own appointment with the beginning

and the end of all that matters and energy’s just what’s left over.
And perhaps this is, after all, the raison d’être
for the inexhaustible,
the indivisible, inextinguishable

pain or sorrow, joy or bliss
within the mansions of this world.
If it is of God, it will last beyond leaving,
and as the longed for inauguration into the Next.

Be it the either which, expressed quite simply,
the Heavens and Earth may cease to exist–
in fact must in the end expire–but His Word
will never pass away, and neither the one

privy to Its existence;
and like all that is, we are in the end,
indivisible, inextinguishable.
Whilst we breathe, so, too, breeds our sacred company,

so, too, our own clear magnification in direct proportion
to recognition of one another and in the reality
of His oneness, our own dear being,
indivisible, inextinguishable.



Disconcerting; expressionless about the face,
The eyes, the gestures, my smile in any minor step
You take; sudden entrances, exists, all essentials swept
In torrents across this mobile stage, the supple need for guidance as I pace
The floor to find my shoes. The simplest gesture burns; the sparks, elite,
So subtle brilliance in the softest action while you, the witness to it all abhor
The fact that what I am is what you are. Denial rages through a score
Of fears exhaled in sweat and tears that flood whenever I begin to seat
Your soul where it belongs, this sacred trust
held deep within me. Rest easy, friend.
I will be true to you. In later moments when I’m gone you’ll think
On it and know we are nothing if not sums of spirits
in the grip of centrifuge. We drink
From common ladles. Mortgaged mornings’ lights’ assay and bend
The prism’s light to bleed tomorrow’s rainbow’s form from drops.
We form an ocean, mariners of error and mistake;
We bear a circumstantial curse that leads
to universal light in every breath we take.