Happenstance and glory of a measured breath, the sun and moon
And distant scintillating light deranged and rearranged
To suite the insignificance of magnificence of a single scene and page.
Another sentence, a paragraph in which I find myself within a backlit room
To mark the hours the Doppler shadows all misfortune casts.
I have revelled in these signs, these periodic tedious monotonies,
Their very rising at once the thrall before the fall, monopolies
Of time and times again that only now appear to mask
Because when all that is has come to pass I happen to be standing here
A witness to creation’s synergies newly birthed. In the cold stare
Of noonish sunlight I sense with fragile accuracy the beneficial glare
Of all my peculiars, entities and particles that occupy the ear,
Delight the eye, and not so subtly remind me that I am,
And need not doubt the ground on which I stand.
…painting by Catherine Manchester…
Posted in Accident, Affirmation, Age, Aging, All or nothing, All that is, Anagnorisis, Anguish of the night, Anticipation, Lyric Poetry, Mirage, Myth of Sisyphus, Poem, Poetry, Sonnet
Tagged Age, Aging, Delusion, Detachment, End Times, Existence, Illusion, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Sonnet, spirituality, Tragic Flaw
Sisyphus consigned to fruitless spoils
Willingly approaches his sacred chores; his noble views,
Along the ledge of things, the crust, consensus, news
Of what the gods have built, his litany of foils
To all that is of him that was or ever will be.
His ambition moot. He has no equal in his toil;
He glories as he stands, his sweat, the oil
Of yearning for perfections never rightly seen
And never consummated in the breach.
He oversees his crown of thorns and spies the puny forms
Beneath the clouds far beneath his station as he mourns
For lack of company and for the less blessed so well beyond his reach,
Preventing touch to fingertips or comfort and from his lips a farewell kiss
Touching nothingness but briefly, he turns his back on all he’s missed.
Posted in Age, Aging, Lyric Poetry, Myth of Sisyphus, Poetry, Samsara, Sisyphus, Sonnet
Tagged Age, Aging, Existence, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Myth of Sisyphus, Patience, Sisyphus, Sonnet, Tragic Flaw