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if i see the music
flowing
to the judge remember the days
when night invoked the benefit
We were together on an unprecedented
gathering
with passion of the time submerged under the rubble
the rocks above the heavens dance their song
high in the knowledge
knowing what a night engagement
in himself above the clouds
It is the smell of riddles
who betrayed under the dunes of a griffon
who sings a song one thousand
how do I remember
as the days keep his lips
forever the exception to
love one another miss
Safier on a bed of roses
We will
what the freak angry
that love is the indispensable
the dryness of the air
a kiss on a high bridge of tears

quaileyedsnowfish wrote:if i see the music
flowing
to the judge remember the days
when night invoked the benefit
We were together on an unprecedented
gathering
with passion of the time submerged under the rubble
the rocks above the heavens dance their song
high in the knowledge
knowing what a night engagement
in himself above the clouds
It is the smell of riddles
who betrayed under the dunes of a griffon
who sings a song one thousand
how do I remember
as the days keep his lips
forever the exception to
love one another miss
Safier on a bed of roses
We will
what the freak angry
that love is the indispensable
the dryness of the air
a kiss on a high bridge of tears

.. "a kiss on a high bridge of tears".. that's quite beautiful, quaileye..

you're sad and flowing today.. still hiding from us your genius (that you betray like a deep blue sapphire hidden in your bed of roses).. [though I think you meant "safer" not "sapphire"].. I suppose there's nothing safe in love.. which returns us to that high bridge of tears..

.. "the rocks above the heavens dance their song".. I see you're dancing with opposites again.. it's interesting how this can yield surprising imagery that sometimes "takes".. Here on earth.. (where we're entrenched, rather like its rocks).. all can seem inert and static. How is it such inertness has come to dance above the heavens?

.. ahh.. "with passion of the time submerged under the rubble".. rubble to rock.. passion to heaven..

"in himself above the clouds"

To be "in himself," yet still above the clouds.. one would think to be "outside of oneself".. but he is "in himself".. on the ground, and in the heavens.. does he not want to "leave" himself?.. should not we want to leave, at times?

It is the smell of riddles
who betrayed under the dunes of a griffon

griffin1, griffon, gryphon
n
(Myth & Legend / Classical Myth & Legend) a winged monster with an eagle-like head and the body of a lion
[from Old French grifon, from Latin grȳphus, from Greek grups, from grupos hooked]

who sings a song one thousand

Once upon a time, I wrote the following line.. it was about the artist and popular culture, I think.. and yet it comes back to me from time to time:

"When the man of a thousand faces invites you dinner, it's hard to have the upper hand at a table that doesn't understand the expression."

That I should find myself.. living this, in a way.. here in a land where things are not always as they seem..

.. the griffon has me feeling.. I don't know.. an "inevitability," somehow. That deepest past, almost. Those monsters that we need to see first in order to grapple with them.. but just how to learn to see.. If I have entered an inner sanctum of sorts.. what world is this I am playing inside?.. are these the archetypes with which we all must struggle so to have knowledge?.. somehow the griffon stirs all of this up in me.. this feeling of.. I keep thinking "inevitability".. though just why I do, I'm not sure. I feel unsteady.. yet drawn toward the source of my discomfort.. and fear, even..

how do I remember
as the days keep his lips
forever the exception to
love one another miss
Safier on a bed of roses
We will
what the freak angry
that love is the indispensable
the dryness of the air
a kiss on a high bridge of tears

.. "what the freak".. seems a near expletive, yet it's not quite.. the "freak".. what is the freak?.. does anger create the freak?.. I don't know.. and I'm not invited to know. Are we angry that "love is the indispensable, the dryness of the air, a kiss on a high bridge of tears?"..

.. "dryness" seems unyielding somehow.. that love should be the "dryness" of the air.. seems again this world of opposites..

how do I remember
as the days keep his lips
forever the exception to
love one another miss

I find these lines especially beautiful. I especially like how the last line draws on the one previous.. there is a.. a lag almost, as the mind stops, nearly imperceptibly, to pull forward what meaning it might from the line before.. the word 'to' lives in two worlds of meaning, it seems

there is "non" sense at work.. to free us into meaning

this passage ends with me pining for its perfection somehow. It seems perfect, as I am all of longing.

v.