There is such far-reaching Truth in this prose poem, Erik, though it bends deeply toward the sadness, the emptiness of the sojourn. Yes, that is an integral part of living in this dark age, but there are also sparks of joy, momentary feelings of completeness, If only we could experience both the yin and the yang as we wend our way through this fragmentary existence. Deep gratitude, Erik. This should win the Prize for “Best Cosmic Verse.”🔥
Such melancholy, loneliness, the smooth ache of a subtle memory - stirs my poetic heart and embraces the hesitant flow of feelings that come from simply living and realizing that this life is surely not the end, but only the beginning. God bless you
Erik, this is deep and despite apparent bleakness so radiant with the truth of that spark. Ever this effervescence. If only we could hear the sacred melody...awww. And yes, everything remains holy. We Are That. Thank you!
Thanks Erik, the poem was the perfect antidote to my doom scrolling of utter nonsense--of a coven of muskian trad-wives and their brood awaiting immolation in a starship.
I feel therefore I am. "The city sleeps & the unhappy children roam w/ animal gangs. They speak to their friends the dogs who teach them trails. Who can catch them? Who can make them come inside?" Jim Morrison. An LA Sullivan Canyon runaway impromptu camping story hinges on this poem I use for affective memory method technique exercises, but I remember many New York City late nights / early mornings where your words were my reality. A keeper in a disposable world.
I can see that for sure, Maha. I get the part about anxiety and unhappiness. Thank you for sharing this.
For me, the knowledge of impermanence is often a gift. I sigh with relief knowing this, too, (whatever's ailing) will surely pass and that I, in my current form, am but an ephemeral speck in this vast wild beautiful complex world.
There is such far-reaching Truth in this prose poem, Erik, though it bends deeply toward the sadness, the emptiness of the sojourn. Yes, that is an integral part of living in this dark age, but there are also sparks of joy, momentary feelings of completeness, If only we could experience both the yin and the yang as we wend our way through this fragmentary existence. Deep gratitude, Erik. This should win the Prize for “Best Cosmic Verse.”🔥
Love writing that can only exist through having lived and paid absurd attention. Well done!
"I too am here, an accident out of the infinite..."
TRUTH
This poem of yours is indeed, a keeper. Thank you for sharing it with us.
Such melancholy, loneliness, the smooth ache of a subtle memory - stirs my poetic heart and embraces the hesitant flow of feelings that come from simply living and realizing that this life is surely not the end, but only the beginning. God bless you
Holy wow Erik!
Incredible!!! Beautiful. Rich. Grabbing.
Thoroughly enjoyed this.
Magnificent! Onwards & Upwards Sky Captain!
Erik, this is deep and despite apparent bleakness so radiant with the truth of that spark. Ever this effervescence. If only we could hear the sacred melody...awww. And yes, everything remains holy. We Are That. Thank you!
I HAVE SEEN THE IINFINITE SPARK OF THE DARK --
THE SAME CHAOS OF SINGLENESS IN THE STARK.
ERIK - YOU ARE ONE OF THE VERY BEST - THANK YOU AGAIN!!! ☮️❤️
Thanks Erik, the poem was the perfect antidote to my doom scrolling of utter nonsense--of a coven of muskian trad-wives and their brood awaiting immolation in a starship.
We are sharp-eyed
when seeing
what we’re looking for…
Like daguerreotypes
come to life
I make my own
blueprints of strife.
I tumbled into your dream,
struggling for air
as I surfaced
unaware of where I’d been.
Troubling, Erik, but I am glad I took the time to chew on the ideas.
I feel therefore I am. "The city sleeps & the unhappy children roam w/ animal gangs. They speak to their friends the dogs who teach them trails. Who can catch them? Who can make them come inside?" Jim Morrison. An LA Sullivan Canyon runaway impromptu camping story hinges on this poem I use for affective memory method technique exercises, but I remember many New York City late nights / early mornings where your words were my reality. A keeper in a disposable world.
Very powerful. speaks right to my heart.
Oh that stench of progress, oh the sanctification of impermanence—beautifully captured.
But really I don’t think we sanctify impermanence. It is the cause of anxiety and unhappiness. The change that impermanent implies is not welcome.
I can see that for sure, Maha. I get the part about anxiety and unhappiness. Thank you for sharing this.
For me, the knowledge of impermanence is often a gift. I sigh with relief knowing this, too, (whatever's ailing) will surely pass and that I, in my current form, am but an ephemeral speck in this vast wild beautiful complex world.
Whoa .... " ah no love, not while your hot kisses burn like a potato riding on the blast "