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Anima
484 Posts |
 Posted - Oct 06 2013 : 2:17:31 PM
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Namaste, friends! Because I have to. And thank you all for your wonderful singing.
Taratri
Lord, I love you more than anything.
You are so kind--so beautiful:
When you are gentle
When you are harsh
When you are large
When you are small
When you are warm
When you are cool
When you are high
When you are low
When you are bright
When you are dark
I am nothing, and you love me!
I am afraid of losing you.
Please do not leave me.
Will you keep me forever?
I listen every moment.
Now always is.
What is--is eternal.
For you are everything.
Will you bring me with you?
To the realms:
Of Sun
Of Sky
Of Ocean
Of Earth
Unlimited light in unparalleled darkness.
Is this too much to beg for?
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Parallax
USA
348 Posts |
Posted - Oct 06 2013 : 3:43:01 PM
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Anima
484 Posts |
Posted - Oct 07 2013 : 8:23:49 PM
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| Thank you, Parallax |
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Bodhi Tree
2972 Posts |
Posted - Oct 08 2013 : 09:04:03 AM
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Anima
484 Posts |
Posted - Oct 08 2013 : 09:20:10 AM
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Lupus Lunae
What if I were to tell you a story?
That I was raised by wolves. That I had to leave them behind. For I was the hungriest wolf.
Have you read "On the Bridge," the philosopher poet's swan song? I know it! Yes, I can hear it:
On the bridge I stood
Lately in the brown night
From afar came a song
It gathered in golden drops
Rolling out over the glimmering surface.
Gondolas, lights, music
Drunken, it swam out into the twilight.
My soul, a stringed instrument,
Sang to itself, invisibly moved
Secretly, a gondola song
Glistening before iridescent joy.
Did anyone hear it?
~Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce Homo
It is the song of a lone wolf who has gone hungry. We hear him calling to us in the night. Will he lie down in the snow?
His dance is wild, strange, mesmerizing, and not always kind. Do you step to its melody?
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Edited by - Anima on Oct 09 2013 10:28:37 AM |
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Anima
484 Posts |
Posted - Oct 08 2013 : 09:31:07 AM
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Ex Animo In Memoriam
Good and bad, so they sing!
The dualists, so substantially
Dueling to their detriment--
Their deterministic death-grip.
Radiant Sanaka,
Brilliant sun among lights!
Eye of Ouranos,
Spire, sunken in Gaia.
Melt our machine--
Of mind games
Of illusory forms,
Of spinning gears.
Inundate our Heart--
Uneven valley,
Infinite depth,
Cool respite.
Soggy walls,
Rancid stench,
Murky sewage,
Assuring prison.
Crumbling halls,
Creaking floors,
Consuming dread,
Resonant screams.
Imagined one,
I know you:
I am you,
You are I.
Memories--your gift,
To give yourself.
You cherish it.
You are grateful.
Comment: (From the Heart, into the Mind)
The task for Fiction Club was to find a good memory and give it to someone loathsome. Perfect: what are fictions, but facts that we manufacture in the factory of mind? Who is more loathsome than the villain that I make myself? What could be better than to give myself what I already have? What I have been given by the Lord. So although the memory from childhood is horrible and haunts my dreams, I am grateful. For the unique, particular shade of this murky pain. In that way, in my way, it is wonderful! It cycles from the material mind to the ethereal heart, and it sings to me.
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Edited by - Anima on Oct 09 2013 10:30:46 AM |
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Desire
