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stolen

I’ve heard it said
there are only two emotions,
love and fear

I’ve heard it said
there is only one crime,
stealing

What will I utter?
as love and fear
are stolen



Mat

?I'm free ... I think the question was rhetorical though

I think this is one of my favourite poems of yours Mat.

Fragment of
Between the Holes of the Memory
by Dominique Appia

Complete :
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JuYuLlq-KU4/T ... 600/hp.JPG

Your response is perfect Cate;
"I'm free..."
Maybe that is where I was headed on that stream of thought.
It reminds me of one of the 3 versions of Christ's final words on the Cross.
"It is finished"

I explored that final moment a little in my Easter poem, "The Lonely Supper" which I placed on the forum a couple of times before around Good Friday.

Tchoc,
Thanks for the link to the "holes"
very alluring.

Mat.

I posted this art work to you because for some reason I found this comforting (I always find art works inspiring and a supporting) while having a life moment like your poem described (or made me feel it was describing).

Not all medicine works the same for everybody though, as you are seing "holes" (void) where I was seing all the rest between the holes, broken maybe, shaken, and never the same anymore, but there, my little world to be rebuilt with the fragmented morcels of the past maybe even better with a little imagination and a lot of sweat. But I am the one to see the glass half full, even though it is 7/8 empty.

Void is full of energy. I wish you the best!

Thanks Tchoc.
I did find it reassuring and healing and peacefully reflective. I liked it so much I placed it on my "desktop";
so each time I turn on my computer I am refreshed.

I am a glass half full kind of person too;;;;most of the time, fortunately.
But when I am in the "glass half empty" mood, I can feel (empathize)what a struggle it must be for those unlucky souls who are stuck there too often, for too long.
They must be tough people to endure that darkness.

Anyway, thanks for that great painting, Tchoc.
Cheers to you.

...I noticed on another thread you were reading Tagore....then this poem of his came to mind and reminded me of your painting above;


Signet Of Eternity

The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for thee;
and entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd,
unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon
many a fleeting moment of my life.

And today when by chance I light upon them and see thy signature,
I find they have lain scattered in the dust mixed with the memory of
joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.

Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among dust,
and the steps that I heard in my playroom
are the same that are echoing from star to star.

Rabindranath Tagore.


I particularly love the last two lines, Tchoc...and they are so that painting (above)to me, this moment.

Mat.

I am touched by this echoing of yours.

Warm Regards