CHRISTMAS NIGHT, CHRISTMAS MORNING
The moon strides through mist.
He is one: half-dead, half-reborn.
The garden is all jet and water –
The black shadow that is time and space.
There is no truth here but stories,
Is what we learn if we live long enough.
The river in its shroud, past the silent graveyard.
Nothing for you to do but weep and sing,
Says the sighing pines.
Nothing but to find beauty here and sing it,
Says the sighing pines.
And the stars look down in envy.
They would fold their wings and walk
These muddy, leaf-strewn paths.
They would feel the cold air of morning,
Let go of hope and fear,
Sing with sun and sparrows.
Would build their small fires,
Feast on emptiness and fullness.
Eternity weaving clothes for itself.
–
simonhlilly 
Words Nest
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged art, boundaries, commentary, cosmologies, creation, edges, endings, existence, identity, Poetry, psychology, reply, words, writing on February 21, 2016| Leave a Comment »
But ‘we’ is not circled.
We have no edge ( though we think otherwise)
(though we think we think).
We think beginnings and endings,
we think words, breath, silence, breath,
intake the other, exhale the other.
cannot remember any moment beyond
a circumscribed horizon, cannot, even, the dreams,
nor the memories, for sure (was it, was, was it so, was it not?)
There are, of course, clues.
Vagrants, with a certain mildewed smell,
mutter slewed directions, their demon-bright eyes.
(but those we shun, as shadows,
as churchyards at night, as the insisting amoral voices in the mist,
peripheral, shuffled, ambiguous).
The long halls, the rooms, the chambers.
My dear Giordano, such equations, such equators.
So few and tired are the moronic habitual paths,
so broad the primrose paths
to Hell untrod, unstudied.
A rumour of damnation, like a roll of distant thunder,
a storm coming. Well, certainly, there is a storm coming.
From the edges to the centre, from the centre to the edges..
An ending ( of sorts).
And then it echoes around another’s skull.
Seed syllables.
The end of worlds.
The beginning of worlds.
—
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