Sunday, July 31, 2005

Motion Disarticulated from Meaning

Alone, the gesture means nothing,
with no eye to see and no mind
to consider it, it is only the motion
of dust beyond the light of any
star, only the twitching of an eel’s
slick and hidden body in the labyrinth
of caves below the lake, where there
has never been sun and will never be,
unto the end of the world.

Alone, the gesture cannot signify,
when even the maker cannot say
with surety what it means, and
would not readily see that meaning
in others, but even motion disarticulated
from meaning has consequence, like
the mystery of the Catholic god’s
tripartite spirit, like the final, unheard
utterance below the gallows, like the
ominous gleam in a black bird’s eye
outside the window pane.

Alone, the gesture is a pressure wave
upon the liquid of these unshared
realities, these crowded individualisms
held hard against the soft flesh of the
belly as we all flail blindly in our own
labyrinthine cave, caught between
being devoid and overwhelmed,
between understanding and mysticism,
between the dueling singularities of
being born and dying.


drthunder said...

"caught ..........between the dueling singularities" ------ This thought, alone, seems to be an epitome of life's experiences. Your wonderful uses of words is extremely satisfying to me. Thanks.

Mushster said...

"as we all flail blindly in our own
labyrinthine cave, caught between
being devoid and overwhelmed" ...

alone, even when we're not.

Thought provoking as always :)

Stranger Ken said...

Is this poem a consideration of the problems of purpose and design in the universe and therefore of the possible existence of a divine creator/designer? Sometimes, I think you must be a theologian at heart.

Firehawk said...


Thanks. Glad you're here.


These two shoes fit only our own feet, and these steps the trace along roads uncharted can only be traveled alone.


At heart, I feel like a failed attempt at something remarkable, now useless and malformed but still twitching outward, devoid of the grace to simply stop.

Mushster said...

Hmm, you sound sad. I think I can safely speak for everyone though when I say we're glad you haven't stopped.

Soulless said...

it is only the motion
of dust beyond the light of any

I absolutely adore the dreamy image that line calls forth. ^_^

even motion disarticulated
from meaning has consequence

I agree. Completely. Even lack of intent does not necessarily absolve or cushion one from the resulting blows (of fate, of the law, of general opinion, etc.). Hmm... I hope I just made sense. *sheepish grin*

caught between
being devoid and overwhelmed,
between understanding and mysticism

Saying that it is a matter of choice does not make matters easier to deal with, yes? Sigh. I am reminded of my own struggles, and the choice I have once made to remain perfectly still, to cloak myself with numbness... until it hardened into a shell, and then softened to become my own skin. Ahh, but was some time ago (it forms part of the story behind the name "Soulless." ^_^). Anyway, enough digression from your rapt audience. I have the utmost admiration for the mind that spun this piece in such a way as to straddle the beauty of poetry and the insistence of philosophy. ^_^

but still twitching outward, devoid of the grace to simply stop

Ahh, but dear, remember your words: "even motion disarticulated
from meaning has consequence." And in your case, your "twitching outward" makes minds whirr.

And I am truly grateful for that. ^_^ (Eep, I hope you do not mind the extended comment.)

Firehawk said...


Well, I've been feeling pretty kicked around lately. I had some prospects that didn't turn out like I hoped, and my morale has suffered as a result. I'll get up off the canvas before the count of ten, though. Thanks for your concern, and your kind words.


What a wonderful comment you made. I'm honored. Of course, you're welcome to make comments as long or short as is your desire. If it's important enough for you to write down, it's important enough for me to read and consider.

It seems like this one got people thinking at points, and that's always good in my book. In terms of the philosophical element, I feel that a strong question about the basic nature of life gives any creative venture a stronger framework upon which to function. Art, beautiful as it might be, requires some secondary energy source to transcend the momentary. While the matador's red cape is the focus of attention, the sword behind it truly does the work.

Again, thanks for writing in, and I appreciate your kind and well-considered comment.

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