Here is enigma. Here is a story, a triptych, or with the poem, a quaternity. There is more to this story. I shall not tell it. Tell it to yourself.
Promenade
A whole life is here
in three pictures, one poem,
a song on the path
to summer's long light,
a promenade, expectant,
a mother and son,
and the others who
take the son further than this
vibrant holy night.
June 7, 2009 10:33 AM
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I always enjoy your backstories, not so much stories, ususally, as philosophy. I also enjoy imagining, so with-or-without is fine.
ReplyDelete:D
ReplyDeleteI can't always think up stuff to say. About half way through the posting process, I finally figured out what the hell I was writing about a year ago in this poem. I toyed with going on and on and backed away. Partly, I was out of time, but that hasn't stopped me before.
To actually be explicit last night just felt too self indulgent and tedious. That might be a weird sentiment concerning a blog post. :)
Does meaning have to be part of beauty. I think not. I feel such love in this, there is beauty in the emotion, in your heart. More beauty that a pin-point meaning. Perhaps more so, because I am not released into the vision, but rather embraced by the love. Smooth as velvet this, and yet maybe there is no love at all. But I feel it none the less.
ReplyDeleteThank you Annie. If I have a real goal in this life that is about me, it is, "He who dies with the most love, wins." I think I mean "ability to love, willing to love" more than I mean "love received". I believe you can't have the one without the other though.
ReplyDeleteYou make it feel like I am succeeding.