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Love, above all other.
Contributed by
iodinelove
on
Saturday, 7th January 2006 @ 02:09:27 PM in AEST
Topic:
EmotionalPoetry
|
It is everyday remembering one day.
It is a black gown on black love kissing burgundy blue tears out of the sky.
I am gray night rolling over white sky, remembering the night before;
My fingers tremble, take in flesh, find rigidity, consume love.
On convoluted dirty doors, my life begins.
Rain worn and torn by thunder, I am hidden by a small dog barking over the empty grave of day.
These words are twisted, nonsensical, alone.
Always, my words fall, walk downtrodden, find themselves alone.
I see an empty peace in every night walked alone, afraid, unsure.
I see a pain, a sadness, in every face of every lover I have ever loved.
I am hurt and sickened by the voice of a new day.
I cannot obtain the measure of my pain with words and vision.
It is deeper than any of my love has ever been.
It is something I do not understand.
That I am broken, shamed, hypocritical, coughing nicotine stained teeth hating the glory of the world; and yet, I am pained by the very actions that I myself make.
I cannot say, love.
Because I do not love.
But in my dreams, in the voice that hides beneath my voice in silence, calls, consumes my thought, consumes the very presence of my being, and I cannot bear to keep silent, and so I say, love.
Love, above all other. Love.
I cannot live well, I cannot provide example, but I tell you now, that the love you have in your lives is not the love that beckons this voice from the shadows of the silent.
Look to the child that is not a child, and you will find the love that is more than the love you know.
Look to the woman that is not a woman, and you will find the pain that your love begins.
And again, it is silent.
Copyright ©
iodinelove
... [
2006-01-07 14:09:27]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Love, above all other.
(User Rating: 1 )
by enigma on
Saturday, 7th January 2006 @ 03:18:10 PM AEST
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a Message)
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Abraham...I think you just expressed the dynamic that keeps our world from being a shallow pool of pastel hues... there is not a soul that doesn't know the answer is, Love...however, almost all of us are cursed to living the question...some appear to find a path to the answer...they generously share what they know...but, their path was only meant for them...we must each find our own...this poem really connected with me...it pretty well describes my wanderings...the discouragement of living the question with the answer staring you right in the face, but out of reach...
...bells ringing...I think it's time to post one of my college days poems...
...thanks for this poem...we're crazy...well, let me speak for myself...I'm crazy...it's somehow comforting to know that I'm not the only miserable one down here...
...good work...
ron...enigma |
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