I sensed a totally new presence today: an older man who felt “crotchety.” My writing came out in block script. It felt terse. I had no idea what was coming through as I wrote it, only that it was a completely different style. I didn’t know when it was finished if any of it would even make sense – I just wrote what I heard. Not sure what to make of it. You be the judge:
Write!
Hasten your fingers and write my words …
Desire.
The heart longs to be free.
Oh, woe is me.
Love have I not.
Forsaken in life I die.
Alone and unloved
Oh, what a plot.
Sleep comes easily now
For I dream no more.
Better this way
To even the score.
This world, this life,
What to make of it?
Beauty and laughter
The brass rings.
But so oft beyond reach.
Try, try,
My soul wants to fly.
I spread my wings and leap.
Oh, sweet defeat.
The bitter fall.
Yet through it all
Hope remains.
I rise
And wipe the tears from my eyes.
There lies another day.
How great is the journey.
Bemused,
I watch.
Grains of sand
Trickle through my hand.
Falling.
An ant hill they form.
Who climbs to the top?
The one who sees the prize.
I arise
And go about the day.
Ever hopeful.
This is joy.
I am the toy.
Time to play.
(I said, “Thank you,” and sensed a sweeping bow and tip of a top hat: “The pleasure was mine.”)
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I took this to mean that this soul is struggling to attain a higher spiritual awakening - and each day he continues to strive for it - not giving up but yet it seems just beyond his reach.
ReplyDeleteThis poem tells me that after we pass on we do not immediately have everything handed to us, we must still make the effort to gain enlightenment.
A soliloquy by a performer. Fittingly a bow.
ReplyDeleteI get knocked down but I get up again, no you're never gonna keep me down....
ReplyDeleteThe poetry in this is forced as if an actor who has lines to speak needs to create a meter that causes echo. The last stanza seems out of place and I wonder if there was a pause before you wrote it?
Still, hope after such negativity.
Reflections? Actualization's? Mirrored realities?
Put me in the mind of Shakespeare's As You Like It, "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts,..."
Yes, there was a pause. It's hard to hold the link, so this may be my mind interfering. My apologies to our poet, if so. Wonderful interpretations... thanks.
ReplyDeleteToday's poem seems from an entity who has been disillusioned with life here on earth. He has no love and is forsaken. He goes through bitterness and anger into depression (tears) and then to acceptance and joy...much like the stages of grief. The next to the last stanza shows the transition to a happier state, and I see him almost smiling at the game of life in the final stanza...having learned that the blessings of the spirit are more important than obtaining the "brass ring."
ReplyDeleteThe second stanza leaves me wondering...as Janbobbly suggests, this could mean he crossed over into the world of spirit and must "even the score" because he never learned to love or comprehend what was important while here on earth.
Oh yes...room for many interpretations today, but this poem certainly remains a "message of hope" for all of us.