Beginning again
There is a magical point
In time
While floating through
The air
The whole world resolves
So clear
And time stands itself
So still
Everything in its place
Just right
At times like these
Oh yes
It becomes very clear
Yes crystal
That no matter how hard
I try
I have no chance
At all
Of stopping the pain
Beginning again
Chris McQueeney 7/24/12 10:17 P.M.
9 comments:
ugh...hard dose of truth there in the end...but we can not live in teh shadow of the pain...just know it is coming...and live anyway...
This was very deep. I'm often amazed at how such profound, thoughful people can also be silly :)
I've said it before, I'll say it again. Control is just an illusion. There is no such thing. So flexibility and adaptability become skills of survival. Roll with it. What is it they say, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body." Ahhhh, well if that's so Chris...we outta be weight lifters by now ;)
((Hugs))
Perhaps there is a discipline in this. Perhaps you are engaged in that path in a small way. Perhaps you will actually succeed in this life to rise above at some point. Perhaps it actually matters that you have a relationship with a power not your own concerning this. Perhaps, in a way, the Master is right: God loves to be used.
I love the first stanza. It's perfect. And the finish---I feel it in my bones. Know it well.
There is this process that takes place in new beginnings that is more delicious than firsts. It seems like hope renewed is even more astounding because in the midst of ugliness and suffering we see light and it is still willing to shine regardless of all the mistakes we've made. At least that's what I've seen in my own life... again and again and then, again.
Real or not, this piece is real
Ooof! That's a gut punch at the end. But so true. Nicely wrought. Thank you. (And thanks for your visit today; it was most kind)
feeling this.
lisa
Nice work on the poem! That is an awesome picture too!
Curious take on those sublime moments...the focus being directed toward the moment the other shoe drops.
Calls to mind the book of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) in which the writer expresses a deep melancholy until the end, where he comes to his conclusions about the meaning of life.
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