| Friday, October 19, 2007 |
| Sacrifice |
Marrow and ink black crow vine thistle hands scratch the brick precipice, twisted and clung so morosely that the veins find their way corrupting the very cobblestone into crumbling debris scattered by bitter winds and gathered ornate thorny crowns.
On peak renaissance statue singed eyes stained towards the heavens holds the broken cross of times past. No eyes to be seen, no vision to see the corruption of his ways, but still light and shadows play on his movement in passing clouds and times lost in rationality.
The outstretched hands that denied so many.
A lone women approaches and clutches a cross necklace to her chest and stands at the base of the steps and starts to cry a slow and mournful sob. I stood watching from behind a tilted column, partially ashamed and transfixed at witnessing a solemn intimacy.
She began to pray, knees bent and hands tight to her chest. I watched her eyes reach the empty eyes of the statue, tears streaming down her face, shadows smoothening and deepening the wrinkles on her face.
I too found myself in tears. I wanted to join her, I wanted to kneel beside her and share in her grief. I wanted to wrap my hands around her and pray with her, to give her some of my strength. But I was here, stealing her intimate sorrow.
Oh God, just make her pain go away, take away the evil and corruption of this place! My heart was beating suprisingly fast.
God, I don't want to see this!
Could she hear me?
I should be the one crying.
She, so devout, so pure, crying and feeling so much pain! Why?
God, take away her pain. Let me take away her pain...
I cried a slow and mournful cry, and found myself looking up to the figures outstretched hands.
and then she was gone.
I turned the cross in my fingers and wiped the tears from my eyes |
posted by David @ 11:05 AM  |
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| Wednesday, October 17, 2007 |
| Earth Medley |
The humidified mist cools and fills my lungs with earthy smells, acorns scattered dust across a sidewalk disheveled by ancient oak trees, they bounce and fall, the downpour of seeded acorns across parallel parked cars, the soft drum and audio footsteps of coffee mud puddles, reflecting dim light of sidewalk lamps, like amberlescent orbs lighting the sky greys of a swirling cauldron as a cold raindrop slides down my forehead.
I let the coldness slide and fall from my nose, feeling my skin rise and relish and fade into. I let myself hear my breathing steps, the beating through my veins urging my fingertips forward. My mind whispers its lust to take off and run through it all, to be and shape a part of everything around me, to hold a pencil in my hands, flowing tatters of inspired notes sentimental and worn, gathered and dusted, posted and read over and over.
Spirituality in the sense of all things sensual, spinning clockwork wind of the first fallen leaf wind gust so powerful that it passes through me and blurs my clothing into the seams.
Life is a feeling I cannot describe, I can only seek the right words to embrace a triggered past glance only spoken through a time captured. |
| posted by David @ 1:02 PM |
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| Thursday, October 11, 2007 |
| Rain Concierto |
I walked across campus seemingly alone, a storm summoned to unleash, when a gust and thunder filled my spirit. Nature high, the splendor rolling terror, and my hands became the waves of rain, my breath a gust of warm air, and I conducted a walking improvisation. My mist coats the air and parts the grass blades, the puddled sidewalk quicksilver breaks droplets suspended among my glossy wet leather boots. Tears of raindrops slide down my face and cheeks. The excitement, the thrill of danger, the thrashing sway of trees, the weeping willow throws up it's hands, and I walk, calmly composed within, completely in control, into the air-conditioned library hall smell of old books, a calm felt refuge of knowledge and warm lamps. I see lightning flash torrent through the windows, like the barge of a ship. I am safe here, breathing, wet, and winding into words, and my world is silent. Rocking calmly into focus, watching this computer screen, the vertical window rain sliding down in rivers.
And I hit Publish Post. |
| posted by David @ 12:23 PM |
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| Wednesday, October 10, 2007 |
| Choosing a Path |
I seek to narrow my footsteps down an arduous path of self-discovery; to know of our nature within, and hope to God that such a nature be made concrete through my life.
Life is more than what I am, but all of the things I've singled out and cast aside. To resign to my strengths and weaknesses although I lack the skill of expertise, to become an eclectic bystander of my own ambition. It doesn't follow down a narrow path of self-discovery, but one of options, one of broadness and mediocrity, and I must sign the treaty or burn the bridge. Must I remain the indecisive pauper?
I wonder then, what is mediocrity? Am I to absorb the niches and generality of all, or am I to solely devote myself to purpose? People are not fulfilled by purpose, they are fulfilled by that which occupies reason; to provide comfort, purpose is an arbitrator of action. Maturity asks that we play our part in shaping the future, it asks to humble ourselves and identify our strengths and weaknesses, and such I am, we are
To be a part of something greater, not a saviour, but a part. If we all have the same destination, why is it so hard to follow a path?
I cringe inside, the demon's lies
Whispers to me that I know nothing
Nothing worth acting upon, no point
No purpose to exude but a empty vessel
I scream to myself, cast out this spirit
holding me desperately searching, blind
Scratches at the recesses of doubt
And my darkness churns, cast silently into retreat
It seals my hope and churns my soul
No! I will not be defeated by such
Look! The grass, the trees!
The stars, the oceans, the waterside!
The streetlamps, the sidewalks!
The frothing tide!
The amber light shines!
The pebble stone tossed into the moon
Rippled pond beating, resounding heart
Hands intertwined and vines within
Wrapping and growing
The spider trinkling threaded weave
Mingled cheeks and passioned lips
The very procreated of creation
Sanctified by the very essence of God!
All of life, all of existence screams a resounding
No! We will live on and serve!
We will, we are, and such we live until the end!
The heartbeat of all
All of life screams for life,
and I live for such
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| posted by David @ 4:09 PM |
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