We are vulnerable
because the spirit
is rooted in the
body, the mind
contained within
the aging flesh
and brittling bone.
We are vulnerable
because, though
we invent time
upon waking and
forget it in dreams,
it forever etches us
like sand in the wind.
We are vulnerable,
we temporary angels
and makeshift gods
upon the spinning
face of a blue-white
marble in endless
space, mere specks
in the ocean of
all-there-is.
We are vulnerable,
yielding to the winds
and departing after
a fragment’s fragment
of a moment, but all
else, all things we
choose to love are
also momentary fancies,
and wouldn’t we
be the worse for it,
should we outlive
our place, and these
similarly perishable
fascinations of mind
and heart?
9 comments:
A very nice piece. Kinda' puts a bearable perspective on our mortality and takes the sting out of our finite existence on this familiar plane. WELL DONE!
"Similarly Perishable" is certainly a great way to return, Firehawk. It makes "waiting for you" a worthwhile endeavor.
The Hawk flies once again!
"and wouldn’t we
be the worse for it,
should we outlive
our place, and these
similarly perishable
fascinations ... "
They say only humans realize their mortality. I'm not so sure that's true. In any case, coming to grips with that fact appears to be one of our major challenges. You've certainly got something of the essence of it here.
It's an interesting question, Firehawk. Thank you.
Nice to see you back in action!
Worth waiting for.
Reread "Hitathli". A very moving piece for me. Makes me yearn for the simpler times when contentment could be found in the more lasting gifts. I mourn the passage of the innocent I was, and wonder why I need more "ornaments" to realize the pleasure that was once so readily available.
Wow! You were all lying in wait for me, it appears! Thanks, all for coming around after my protracted silence. I wasn't sure if this latest poem would sink or swim, but apparently it has at least some merit.
Bob,
Some consolation for this short and often confusing existence is, I suppose, required.
Also, glad you liked Hatathli so much. I'm fond of that one, too. Some wise folks say that all that is "without" i.e. material goods and wealth, provides false pleasure and is of no great consequence. Only that which is "from within" is important. Our own spirits, our ability to see the wonders of life and the world around us, our loved ones and the products of our imaginations...this is the important stuff. Not what we have, but what we make of our time here on the planet. Not an easy concept, especially in this very material world, but one that can maybe bring solace after more temporary pleasures become dim and faded.
Doc,
May the wait be less protracted in the future...
Swiftboat,
I'm not sure we know as much as we think about how other beings view the world. It seems that humans have a way of dramatizing our own mortality, and brooding over things we can't control, but that doesn't mean that we're the only ones aware of the shadow of death. Just because a dog is a puppy to his dying day, does that mean he doesn't know the end is coming? Maybe, we'd live better lives if we took the same attitude.
MB,
Thanks for coming back!
Mush,
Glad you think so. It almost didn't happen, truthfully. I was on the verge of writing in to say that I was taking the rest of the summer off. Perhaps I can get rolling with some new material, instead.
Once again... worth the wait... I find it amazing we were both away, at the same, and for nearly the same lentgh of, time!
This summer has dragged me down... between the heat and the schedule I've been just worn out.
And then you return with a mortality piece... something that I've been pondering quite o bit of late.
Well done, once again.
Bill,
Thanks for coming over. Not much productivity in poetic terms over here, but I try to say something mildly interesting here and there. Sorry for taking so long to respond, also. Hope to have another piece up here directly.
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