Guest guest Posted July 20, 2002 Report Share Posted July 20, 2002 <hrtbeat7> wrote: In a Dark Time: In a dark time, the eye begins to see, I meet my shadow in the deepening shade; I hear my echo in the echoing wood-- A lord of nature weeping to a tree. I live between the heron and the wren, Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den. )))) Meeting in the clearing we laugh and weep -- the forest grove, the many fallen leaves! What's madness but nobility of soul At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire! I know the purity of pure despair, My shadow pinned against a sweating wall. That place among the rocks--is it a cave, Or a winding path? The edge is what I have. )))) Slipping off that edge of ledge -- I seem to lighten into flame itself, falling fire brightening into some swift outshining of the phantom shadow's lingering amidst the rocks and rubble I once took to be myself. A steady storm of correspondences! A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon, And in broad day the midnight come again! A man goes far to find out what he is-- Death of the self in a long, tearless night, All natural shapes blazing unnatural light. )))) The Deathless One - revealed in Light of Mystery, revealed in every corresponding flowing between birds aswoon, astounded tears wrung dripping from this rag of moon, all shapes shifting into what they've always been, this midnight come again! Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire. My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I? A fallen man, I climb out of my fear. The mind enters itself, and God the mind, And one is One, free in the tearing wind. )))) Sunset along Moonstone Beach, and then the wild wind gossiping in chilly words from Mother Night. The seastacks rise and gleam in the fresh moonlight flooding the coastline, and my heart hangs impaled upon their craggy points like some poor fish held high on spears of inevitability. God knows why this thing was placed inside our chests! Surely we would be at peace had it not stirred awake there. Such musings serve no purpose now. "When the breath goes out it's fit to burn." Yes, and even now with each inhalation the tell-tale stench of the cardiac fire is carried in the steady breeze from offshore - from the seastacked heartfire - stings the nostrils, wrinkles the mind that only sought the oblivion place, the quiet still place alone wrapped in arms of self, comforted by the little wandering stories mind shares with itself, the innocent consoling fictions passing time from sleep to perfect sleep, from death to perfect death. Who is there will take this thing? Who will open wide and swallow this pound of throbbing bursting torched-to-crispy fleshy life? Perhaps these eyes now glued to moon have been too long in looking without seeing, these eyes now stung by the mounting wind – God, this wind can cut right through you sometimes, can't it? This wind, and this slicing knife of heart. Theodore Roethke (1964)/ b Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.