…and the final choice of all:
you can always stay behind
in the place you can control,
in the prison of your mind…
Tag: poetry
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There is always a choice
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It’s a strange world
It’s a strange world,
made of echoing emptiness
pulling itself together,
like Baron Munchhausen
pulling himself out of the swamp by his hair.
You cavort through it,
creating it as you go,
a cartoon character
picking up tracks from behind
and laying them in front
for your train to keep going;
an oblivious demiurge
sensing the world into being.
Every time you make a handstand –
you stand on the edge of the precipice.
Every time you laugh –
you laugh in the face of death.
It fills me with awe,
and joy,
and terror,
and utter amazement
at the strangest thing of all –
your ability to see this world as rock-solid. -
Realism
Courage is always beautiful
and courage in the face of overwhelming odds – doubly so.
That is why there is such an acute, poignant beauty in realism.
Seeing things as they are
and nevertheless
making choices based on who you want to be –
what can be more brave,
more beautiful,
more pointless? -
The Shadow of Death
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil” (Psalm 23, ESV of the Christian Bible)
Death always rides on the back of the living,
unnoticed and unobtrusive,
but ever-present.
Sometimes we become aware of it
through a shiver down the spine
and sudden tightness in the chest
that catches our breath
and holds it.
But then we breathe in –
a deep breath of relief –
and forget;
those who don’t
become insane
or insufferable.
We forget until the moment
it’s time to turn our back to the world,
take our final bow
and let our death face it.
Huastec statue from the Tampico region (México), artist unknown;
displayed in Louvre Museum, Paris, France -
Transformation
When the heavens are reflected in the depths –
throw a rock, watch the transformation.
Isn’t it more fun than mere reflection? -
Work of Art
“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”
Leonardo da Vinci
You are a work of art, you are my voice
combined with yours, a self-creating song.
I will abandon you, but not by choice.
You’ll sing the song yourself before too long.
