|This was in the works for a while, and I think it turned out well. I think it has some impact to it. There is something compelling about quiet anger.|
A Whispered FuryA soft voice, rising from the cold groundA Whispered Fury by A-Wandering-Man
Cutting through the heavy veil of night
A whispered fury; a silent rage unbound
For grave injustice never set right.
A vigil held for those lost to hate and fear;
Your final vindication is drawing near
The time of rebellion will soon be here.
A Life Beyond WordsI live within the confines of a brain, a mindA Life Beyond Words by A-Wandering-Man
Trapped in a matrix of bone and flesh, a kind
Of prison from which it is impossible, I find,
To escape. Perhaps consciousness must be confined.
A long, winding road down which all must travel,
Leading nowhere; and underfoot, the gravel
Crunches as the boots slam down like so many gavels
Ringing out into the darkness, as minds unravel.
But these paths are not so lonely, and, little wonder,
Not untraveled. The trails, well defined, let us ponder
As we trod along at varying paces; and as we wander
We find that of those with whom we walk, we grow fonder.
So on these barren roads we find ourselves among friends
By some magic, our togetherness transforms and amends
The suffering of existing in this world; it defends
Us from the worst inner and outward Hells, and ends
The uncertainty and loneliness upon which fear depends.
We are fragile contraptions of sinew and stone
Bandying about upon a molten rock, naked and prone
In this life beyond words; a
MeaningWhat is the purpose of human existence?Meaning by A-Wandering-Man
Why are we here?
Why does it matter?
What meaning is there to life?
None of these questions have satisfying answers.
Why is that? It's very strange.
I think children generally have it figured out, intuitively. But I doubt their ability to conceptualize it, let alone express it. I think they care little about such existential questions.
I think we can learn something from that. The fact is, we're here. We know a fair bit about the "how", which is worth knowing - not to mention, actually possible to know. The "why" of it all, though, is a massive, burning question in many minds; but I think it is actually rather inconsequential.
Would we live differently if we knew? Perhaps. But we might not. Humans tend to be rather stubborn, that way.
For me, personally, I've decided to think of life as a grand experiment, an immersive experiential narrative of somewhat indefinite length, depth, and breadth. A Petri dish for a mind, if you will,
The Eternal SingingShe inhales sharply before taking her first steps,The Eternal Singing by A-Wandering-Man
Planting her feet squarely in this new World
Entering from the infinite void into chaos pandemic
And before another breath is drawn, Order is wrought.
Her sword bites into the vital points of a dozen men;
Like so many cobras lashing out, striking their prey.
Her magic bears burden of both shield and healer,
Warding away the viciousness of the cowardly brutes,
Who so blithely thought to attack the innocent.
In seconds, her deadly dance reduces the raiders to nothing
And just as swiftly as she arrived, she sets herself upon
Yet another battle, another world, another affront to justice
She walks among the wyrds of the many worlds, finely weaving
The threads of fate into a glorious tapestry, spun of life,
Love and truth; correcting errors as they manifest in the fabric.
As she strides through this great hall of destinies unfurling,
She hears a whisper in the distance, the faintest notes of song.
A visceral calling spurs her onward, as she
|Feel free to peruse my gallery... some old gems but mostly there's a general trend of improvement as time goes on, I feel. Mostly just poetry but there's some prose thrown in here and there. Hope you enjoy.|
Times now and long goneYour shadow is moving againTimes now and long gone by InTheStarryNightSky
flickering as if there were candlelight under your feet
but you don’t stand in fire
Your eyes are deep again
farther down than the Marina Trench
do you really want to know what’s below the depths of light?
Your tongue is stilled from languages
that never seem to come out right
a hundred thousand lifetimes and you still don’t have a name
The lightning of the stars has been calling you
supernovae explode, calling out for you
a comet has come to bring you back home
dust to dust they say, but what about water to ice?
Draw in your breath from a thousand lifetimes
and look up to find your way home.
|I don't favourite things often. If I've favourited something you've written, painted, drawn, photographed, etc., it means I like it a great deal.|
I'm a writer, not an artist! And a pretty damn good one! At least, I'd like to think so.|
I think too much, feel too much, and eat too much, and I don't think any of those things will ever change.
I love living, but it terrifies me. Odd, that. Suppose that's how it's supposed to be.
My best friend in the world is MissSoarrow, so be nice to her!
“Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers.”
"Come, come, whoever you are; wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving; Ours is no caravan of despair; come, yet again, come"
― Rumi, Sufi poet