transcendental
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2000
- Messages
- 22
(even though i'm not even halfway done)...
My folk clothed me in finery of hope
and promise both, and sent me on my way.
With aged and beaten proverbs to be
my young, yet famished mind's only sustenance.
And so I set forth on the motley path of life,
with searching eyes towards home behind,
the horizon I could not percieve before me.
So I trod on, stumbling on the stones of thought,
pocketing them as I progressed.
In their varied shapes did I find solace
from the lonely murmurs of mother and kin...
An interruption to my reflection soon arose,
scholar-bard! a raucous reveler's rave
of knowledge past, my youthful vaults did encase
in its crudity, the very wisps
of time did serenade and mingle
with the moans of suffering and growls of rage.
We parted, the prize I gained satisfying,
yet less than sweet. So onward, as my gaze
traversed the tufts of time and fixed upon
an object below the canopy...
a women wielding a basket of wicker
and luscious fruits of worldly motives and ends.
she offered up to me with heaving bosom.
did soon fall as ashes from my lips;
my body now tremoring in transition
from the shivers of transient ecstasy.
The wind began its jovial romp,
though in a somewhat arctic fervor,
and the summer birds' delectable cantata
was replaced by reflective wintry calm.
I sat by a lake, glossed by frozen air
yet sofly murmuring among the scarce
imperceptible felt-booted footsteps
of death stalking the weak in the scathing cold.
In the waters I saw both my image,
reflected on the icy vernier
and into the shallow depths of the shore...
once boy, once man, and now a sage too late
for the tool to temper passion comes
long after the iron has cooled... brittle.
In the duality of my fixed gaze
the simalcrum transformed to echo
the wisdom that now frosted my brow
as a frigid hand then clasped my shoulder...
My folk clothed me in finery of hope
and promise both, and sent me on my way.
With aged and beaten proverbs to be
my young, yet famished mind's only sustenance.
And so I set forth on the motley path of life,
with searching eyes towards home behind,
the horizon I could not percieve before me.
So I trod on, stumbling on the stones of thought,
pocketing them as I progressed.
In their varied shapes did I find solace
from the lonely murmurs of mother and kin...
An interruption to my reflection soon arose,
scholar-bard! a raucous reveler's rave
of knowledge past, my youthful vaults did encase
in its crudity, the very wisps
of time did serenade and mingle
with the moans of suffering and growls of rage.
We parted, the prize I gained satisfying,
yet less than sweet. So onward, as my gaze
traversed the tufts of time and fixed upon
an object below the canopy...
a women wielding a basket of wicker
and luscious fruits of worldly motives and ends.
she offered up to me with heaving bosom.
did soon fall as ashes from my lips;
my body now tremoring in transition
from the shivers of transient ecstasy.
The wind began its jovial romp,
though in a somewhat arctic fervor,
and the summer birds' delectable cantata
was replaced by reflective wintry calm.
I sat by a lake, glossed by frozen air
yet sofly murmuring among the scarce
imperceptible felt-booted footsteps
of death stalking the weak in the scathing cold.
In the waters I saw both my image,
reflected on the icy vernier
and into the shallow depths of the shore...
once boy, once man, and now a sage too late
for the tool to temper passion comes
long after the iron has cooled... brittle.
In the duality of my fixed gaze
the simalcrum transformed to echo
the wisdom that now frosted my brow
as a frigid hand then clasped my shoulder...
