Nietzche
Bluelighter
Deep within my cave I encountered an apparition,
Its spectral presence haunted my truth
My thoughts were to be forever altered.
In the occident wandered this being of the shadows,
Before it was held a lantern, though I could not see its light.
“Specter, can’t you see that your light does not shine?”
“This matters not because my eyes cannot see what you claim to be.”
Gazing deep into the lantern I could not fathom its fuel,
And the harbinger of this light . . . I could not fathom its mind.
“Be thou goblin of health, or spirit damned,” I thought, “I will speak to thee . . .”
but I soon understood that this was unnecessary, for my ego had become subjectum.
Man or woman, what are thee?
I am both.
God or man what are thee?
I am both.
Apollo or Dionysus?
I am both.
Dead or alive?
I am both.
And how can you see me with your blind light?
I see what goes unseen, speak what is unspoken, think what is unthought.
Thought I what a blessing to be paid a visit by a specter that so haunts my truth,
And how unfortunate to see only what others cannot, for there is so much beauty in this - temporal realm . . . was that laughter emerging from this cavernous being?
Such a specter must have traveled from afar and well beyond the walls of my cave . . . laughter again?
Speak . . . what truth have you to tell?
A look of sadness overcame its face,
(By god! It was both man and woman!)
Remember the smithy in your soul, forge with its your race’s conscience . . . it remains – uncreated.
And back to the shadows it returned,
To haunt ever more my occidental cave.
Its spectral presence haunted my truth
My thoughts were to be forever altered.
In the occident wandered this being of the shadows,
Before it was held a lantern, though I could not see its light.
“Specter, can’t you see that your light does not shine?”
“This matters not because my eyes cannot see what you claim to be.”
Gazing deep into the lantern I could not fathom its fuel,
And the harbinger of this light . . . I could not fathom its mind.
“Be thou goblin of health, or spirit damned,” I thought, “I will speak to thee . . .”
but I soon understood that this was unnecessary, for my ego had become subjectum.
Man or woman, what are thee?
I am both.
God or man what are thee?
I am both.
Apollo or Dionysus?
I am both.
Dead or alive?
I am both.
And how can you see me with your blind light?
I see what goes unseen, speak what is unspoken, think what is unthought.
Thought I what a blessing to be paid a visit by a specter that so haunts my truth,
And how unfortunate to see only what others cannot, for there is so much beauty in this - temporal realm . . . was that laughter emerging from this cavernous being?
Such a specter must have traveled from afar and well beyond the walls of my cave . . . laughter again?
Speak . . . what truth have you to tell?
A look of sadness overcame its face,
(By god! It was both man and woman!)
Remember the smithy in your soul, forge with its your race’s conscience . . . it remains – uncreated.
And back to the shadows it returned,
To haunt ever more my occidental cave.
