Metaphor: God as Nature or Being-Itself
Anthem
Inverted needs, and one’s between another’s knees.
What’s steeped in sleep becomes submerged awake,
Beyond our understanding and below belief
To steal an ancient instinct kiss more real than scripture;
Rapture proved without a prophecy or doubt,
Speechless teaching of a Breath made flesh
From long before it learned to speak a single word.
Unheard below the broken surfaces,
All unselfknown,
Moans lose themselves in other moans.
No wave knows anything but water.
Two shocked faces in a one and only holy place
Can meld.
Sleek images of doe and cat,
Stern images of steed or stud,
Fall like falsehood fossils in sediments like mud.
All sentiments of human scent, subservient or dominant,
Reveal themselves irrelevant—obscene, brief human themes
That stay within the solitary self’s own dream:
Carnal without knowledge.
Our dreams are meant to meet, mate, marry, and evaporate.
Strong’s made gentle, gentle strengthened;
Playful leveled is how level plays.
Both stop and stay. This is the way
Of galaxies and light and stars, of teeming darknesses,
Liquefying earth, and shapely drops of steel.
This is how the universe unreels
And stays at play for eons. This is how ease feels.
And still by day we live afraid to live
And still at night we sleep afraid to die,
Dreaming of a solid ground.
Be still. Reality is here and all around,
Swiftest current of streams that merge and urge
The only One tumultuous tranquility
To shake world-stuff such as we like wind through trees,
Freeing every branch to play in autumn’s lordly, orderly disorder,
Raking clamorous leaves to clap and snap their brazen, long-drawn
Holy hush, then tremulously rush to hush again,
Another season’s tide to raise the possibility of bright infinity
Breaking wide and blue forever on this planet’s flashing eye:
Sustaining outcry living what it means to live,
Dying what it means to die to dread,
And fleeing solid dreams like liquid truth,
Forever Now.
Born into an Ocean’s roar, submerged in sound,
We barely resonate with All we must resound.
--Paul Martin
Inverted needs, and one’s between another’s knees.
What’s steeped in sleep becomes submerged awake,
Beyond our understanding and below belief
To steal an ancient instinct kiss more real than scripture;
Rapture proved without a prophecy or doubt,
Speechless teaching of a Breath made flesh
From long before it learned to speak a single word.
Unheard below the broken surfaces,
All unselfknown,
Moans lose themselves in other moans.
No wave knows anything but water.
Two shocked faces in a one and only holy place
Can meld.
Sleek images of doe and cat,
Stern images of steed or stud,
Fall like falsehood fossils in sediments like mud.
All sentiments of human scent, subservient or dominant,
Reveal themselves irrelevant—obscene, brief human themes
That stay within the solitary self’s own dream:
Carnal without knowledge.
Our dreams are meant to meet, mate, marry, and evaporate.
Strong’s made gentle, gentle strengthened;
Playful leveled is how level plays.
Both stop and stay. This is the way
Of galaxies and light and stars, of teeming darknesses,
Liquefying earth, and shapely drops of steel.
This is how the universe unreels
And stays at play for eons. This is how ease feels.
And still by day we live afraid to live
And still at night we sleep afraid to die,
Dreaming of a solid ground.
Be still. Reality is here and all around,
Swiftest current of streams that merge and urge
The only One tumultuous tranquility
To shake world-stuff such as we like wind through trees,
Freeing every branch to play in autumn’s lordly, orderly disorder,
Raking clamorous leaves to clap and snap their brazen, long-drawn
Holy hush, then tremulously rush to hush again,
Another season’s tide to raise the possibility of bright infinity
Breaking wide and blue forever on this planet’s flashing eye:
Sustaining outcry living what it means to live,
Dying what it means to die to dread,
And fleeing solid dreams like liquid truth,
Forever Now.
Born into an Ocean’s roar, submerged in sound,
We barely resonate with All we must resound.
--Paul Martin







13 Comments:
beautiful
Parts of this resonate much with a song I wrote some time back ( http://www.kristinnoelle.com/2004/08/20/untoward-choir/ ).
Anyway, thank you for sharing this.
now we have lost the glass.
death and life
circle around,
we have lost our need for profound.
the past's dirge still sound,
we are all still in fear,
and not ready to give up-fear.
death took over and kissed
the lands,now when peace we preach,
we have become too sensitive
so that we can't forgive.
caste and creed
holy and faith,
we think on,
for,
we have forgotten
the oldest song which
keeps the cycle going on and on.
in circle we move,
searching for a clue,
we will know where we started
only if we dare.
those who do so are rare,
for the fear of failure
is just to bright to stare at.
it is a warrior who can
stare at light,
thus he becomes a warrior of light.
the scintillations to the eye,
make him the eye
and above skin and blood,
flesh and transcendent love
he rises to the immortal spirit
who can conquer boundaries,
for he is beyond them.
for one in a system,
the only way to know
is by leaving it.
for that we need to rebel,
shove what we had ,
like any other pebble
and try to understand each syllable
reality is what we make it to be,
it is not what we just see.
reality can be,
anything that you want it to be.
we have made a reality
as a kind,
one which has driven
it to where it is destined.
it is time to remind
our flamboyant race
that we are its face.
and dreams we need to chase,
for without light there
is no darkness,
and with out heat
no cold and with out death
no life.Love is constant
immortal it is,yet dynamic.
for the light which shines,
all that shines is home,
for it has the freedom to roam,
for the light shines the brightest.
death is just the beginning.
One of the greatest mysteries of mankind.
what after death?
KAI: Thanks, and me either. That is, I’ve never been any good at consciously thinking up poetry. Whenever I've written a poem, it seems to come out of nowhere/on its own. (If I try to write poetry, it’s really really bad…)
KRISTIN and VISHESH: Thanks for sharing your work. To me, both pieces suggest that only as the human enterprise connects with greater nature’s efforts can it become sustainable and realize its full long-term potential.
Kristin, the idea of the individual life's unimportance when considered as something set apart in contrast to its deep importance as considered in relation to the larger context – those are good words toward getting at the poem’s meaning, thanks.
DESPARADO, thanks, and for stopping by. It’s possible over time for questions concerning life after death to be displaced by a statement that does not concern life after death even though it puts that question to rest. For me, this occurred as a gradual process that took maybe a dozen years.
Love this, thanks for sharing.
I also love what Liara said.
MARK: Glad you like it, and on Liara's comment, me too - it's an important point - but I think one that’s most accurately made with the qualifications I mentioned in reply. It’s true that very often "a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest" (Simon and Garfunkel, The Boxer). And yet becoming aware of our personal tendencies toward selective attention and developing the ability to exercise positive control over our thoughts and emotions, while important aspects of inner life and personal growth, are not the entire story.
Happy Easter to you too -
Post a Comment