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wings of sapphire

yesterday I argue
founded with a smile
the feeling of loneliness
close to me to realize
on the basis of regret
look in the grace
the passive ones at a glance
The paper is sharp
on the train of prosperity
these voices buzzing through my heart
I always
bonding astray
when they sing in the choir
banging away from
here
like yourself at the destination in ditch
as a light mist of tears
be fruitful as the rain dampened the flowers
yesterday as the location of fire
the words of a bleak voice
of a gloomy thought
you put yourself down as the blood of the dragon
the only corn blurred
as a bird's nest of paper

quaileyedsnowfish wrote:wings of sapphire

yesterday I argue
founded with a smile
the feeling of loneliness
close to me to realize
on the basis of regret
look in the grace
the passive ones at a glance
The paper is sharp
on the train of prosperity
these voices buzzing through my heart
I always
bonding astray
when they sing in the choir
banging away from
here
like yourself at the destination in ditch
as a light mist of tears
be fruitful as the rain dampened the flowers
yesterday as the location of fire
the words of a bleak voice
of a gloomy thought
you put yourself down as the blood of the dragon
the only corn blurred
as a bird's nest of paper

.. what a sweet picture, quaileye.. to go with a rather sad poem, it seems.

be fruitful as the rain dampened the flowers
yesterday as the location of fire
the words of a bleak voice
of a gloomy thought
you put yourself down as the blood of the dragon
the only one blurred
as a bird's nest of paper

I changed the word "corn" to "one," just to see what that might do.. [since I wasn't quite registering what "corn" might be doing there, though if it comes to me, I'll put it back, I guess]..

I like this passage, which goes from thought as a "bleak voice".. to putting oneself down on paper, perhaps, as you do in this poem.

"The blood of a dragon" is intriguing. I've given this idea of dragons some thought, actually, having read some interesting, if esoteric, theories on them. To some they symbolize darker forces at work here on earth. And though it's true, as Leonard says, that in our secret lives at least, it's neither black nor white sometimes.. and yet.. it does seem there is the choice to move toward darkness, or light..

Slaying the dragon within oneself does not make for wanting testimony. When hatred with its package comes, refusing delivery might sometimes amount to the same thing.. at least if there were real temptation afoot. [self hatred, I would add.. being the worst dragon of all]

"A bird's nest of paper".. I like. I myself know what it is to be alone. Though, thanks in part to writing, I don't feel to be entirely alone. It could be my writing is this bird's nest of paper. I am deep within myself.. nesting, perhaps.. healing very ancient wounds.. wounds that get poked and prodded at as I try to in some manner be free of them.. (though perhaps we're never entirely free in that regard).

This little girl, be she a daughter, or yourself [in a sense].. feeling wise, I mean.. she is all of hope's promise. She is wounded already, no doubt, but unaware yet of the ramifications.

Children wear the light of God, and it saves us sometimes. I feel to be a child sometimes myself, and this too somehow saves me.

.. I guess I'm rambling here, fish..

Oh.. I know I had a moment this morning where I thought: oh, no.. will I succumb to sadness today?.. will it be one of those days where I'm only seeing the darkest take on things.. on myself??.. But then I remembered that.. [and sometimes this is impossible, I know].. but then I remembered I could stand back a bit, and laugh at myself. Laugh at how absurd life's predicament is at times. And in this, we are not alone, somehow. I mean, it's fear that tends to isolate us. And yet, what is the fear?.. when you realize how very human it is to be grappling with oneself, in whatever form that takes.. I don't know.. in this we can be with each other somehow. And that's what I was thinking.. that I can be somehow okay in the mess that I am, or the mess that I've somehow created for myself.. and knowing this somehow comforted me. And in telling you this, I'm telling you that none of us are alone. And even.. when I am deeply within myself.. when I am seeking to do right for myself.. am I not in some way healing all that needs to be healed in this world? All others that I am somehow touching?

.. I hold on to this sense that this love in myself is healing, fish.. just as it's something we must all possess. It tells us that there is nothing to fear, really.. that we are all okay in each other's eyes, if we allow divine love to act through us. That sounds too exalted, maybe.. as really, it's simple, and open, and freeing.

v.

later addition: I thought to work with this a bit..


be fruitful as the rain dampened flowers
(yesterday as the location of fire)

the words of a bleak voice,
a gloomy thought

you put yourself down as the blood of the dragon;
a torn heart obscured as
a bird's nest of paper