:: :: :: :: terrible dragon: slaying the world one poem at a time :: :: :: ::
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Savoring a future that may yet hold out for us
The Living To Do For Vyvian
There is so much life to reconcile. We remind ourselves that there is yet much more living of it to do. We know this and laugh anyway looking back at what we cannot change, wouldn’t even if we could. In your presence, I blush easily. I must be utterly vulnerable to the agate gaze of your probing eyes. Before you, my blood rushes like reef fish teeming at some coral surface and all my predatory hiding is revealed.
This lioness will not devour me and I sense that. Your smile betrays a tender hunger and I am consumed, not by teeth, but by lips shaped like crescent moons waiting to fill with rain. You set stars ablaze in the constellation that fell to the ground and rose again to make up the soul I call my own. Your fire sets to my water and together all things become possible: stream, storm, steam, sense, space.
These are the elementals of love everywhere, even here, like this, sitting together with our mouths savoring a future that may yet hold out for us. “A passion for the pale,” said the sign over your shoulder. And the lion shall stand with the lamb as I will cherish both fleece and fearlessness, drown amid the rich provinces of your breaching embrace. There is so much life to reconcile as there is yet much living to do.
We leave so much unfinished. Most places will never know the trod of our feet, the vanished architecture of our singular wander. As your lips will not know mine, your limbs shall remain territoriesforever closed to me, tributaries never undertaken to the summitof their precious source. Lives intersect for the briefest crossings,pass and diverge like mighty falls around the smallest stones.
We leave so much unfinished. We archive all our worst intentions and shelve the best. As we seek to know ourselves we make strangersas we go, each one a pilgrim embraced in another feckless devotion.Your laugh echoes in my imagination of it, ricochets off the momentswe left entombed in misconception, possibilities run slick with a palerush of menses that carried only the nutrient of a rich emptiness.
Forgive me my footless missteps. Excuse the paradox that rockedyour spine before settling somewhere outside my hips. Pardon allthat remains yet unpardonable and set yourself a place at the tableof true forgiveness where bread breaks evenly, wine seldom stains thecloth, knives pierce cleanly through the meat, manners rest heavy andweary against all we leave half-eaten, all that remains unfinished. Joseph Gallo March 14, 2009
You enter where you enter, head bowed just enough to pass without striking notice or scraping a threshold of dismissal. Each life is a temple and to check one’s feet before entering is to free the debris of a journey no longer being undertaken. Destiny is nothing if not a destination never to be arrived at. It is no different here.
She sits like a figure in contemplation, musing something silent and secret, something not given to examination by forces outside her own nature. Regard this then as sacrosanct and take your place quietly, with permission. It is the right thing to do. Do this and nothing else without her grant of endowment. Be still now; listen with intent.
You may marvel at her inwardness, the scope of her descent into all that matters to make her who she is, in spite of who you imagine her to be. Allow for this. You cannot know the whole story as she cannot retell it. Yours is to come to know your own, as far as possible, learn it, as far as possible, speak it, as far as possible. In this you are kindred tellers of an unfolding tale.
Would you have it any other way than rich with the mead of mystery and unknowingness? Would you know all things to but be reminded that there are things you can never know? Would you sit her temple and think of brassworn spires piercing the jungletop, overrun with the rootwork of all it took to build them into beautiful ruin as they now stand in rich corrosion?
So enter as you will enter. Mind your head and feet. Know, beforehand, which are which. Pass with grace conferred by her merest nod or smile. Embrace abundance as enough. She will find you a place among her sagas, or not. Be content in your role as minor legend that, while not flashing swords across an embellished sun, you are nevertheless a vital bearer of the pearl.
wisdom is worth all we lose to attain it. ~aucassin verdé
i wonder if the artist ever lives his life-—he is so busy recreating it. only as i write do i realize myself. i don't know what that does to life. ~anne sexton
you must acquire the trick of ignoring those who do not like you. in my experience, those who do not like you fall into two categories: the stupid and the envious. the stupid will like you in five years time. the envious, never.~john wilmot, 2nd earl of rochester
art arises when the secret vision of the artist and the manifestation of nature agree to find new shapes. ~kahlil gibran
creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. art is knowing which ones to keep. ~scott adams
those who don't know how to weep with their whole heart, don't know how to laugh either. ~golda meir
i said to my soul, be still,
and wait without hope,
for hope would be hope
for the wrong thing.
wait without love,
for love would be love
of the wrong thing.
there is yet faith;
but the faith and the love
and the hope are all
in the waiting.
wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought.
so the darkness shall be the light,
and the stillness the dancing.