I was going to say that i was at the breaking point, but no. I broke. Like a wave. I was broken. Like a tree still growing but weighed down by the snows of time and terror and change and inertia. Life took me over its knee and snapped me like a dried branch and i wondered what fire was it kindling with me? what fire shall we build together? Will I rise there-after or will i blow away with the ash in the wind?
A Prayer Like Gravity
Mundus vult decipi
A Prayer Like Gravity 
you’ve been playing with this for awhile (I’m glancing up at the false face series you explored); it’s not the end of everything, just the end of what you thought it might be, just the space of what you thought was the case, was not: that is space you can use; embrace the space, embrace that space; I know you like Alan Watts, he said you cannot bite your own teeth [no matter how much you believe you can], realisation of that space opens up the view on ALL the biting; there is power in this … eventually; love to you all
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Indeed, I think I always am playing with this, in one way or another–worrying it like a bone in the dark of the pantry.
This is definitely a time of re-evaluation, of time and space and energy. Where it all goes, where it’s all going, where it should rest.
Yes, it is funny that we have just moved from approximately 7,000 square feet to 1,100 and yet I had run out of space and am only now finding it again. I had lost my place, my stillness, and am feeling around again for where I left it….I know it’s in here somewhere…
Just came across this on the very same subject:
https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/11/10/pico-iyer-the-art-of-stillness/
I had all kinds of room, but no space–no stillness.
Thank you–
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Waves, fire, ash. The good news is they’re all transformations. The part that sucks is thinking all along you know where you’re heading. Best of luck on this new life.
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Also the part where you think you have to be heading SOMEWHRE–that that is what one is supposed to be doing, that that is what one MUST do! And NO!
The wave does not seek the shore.
The fire does not seek the sky.
Ash does not wish to be wood.
Thank you my friend for this insight.
Much love–
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I like it that you’ve written this poem in a personal voice and at the same time expressed a universal aspect of human experience. Good work. I especially enjoy this line:
“Life took me over its knee
and snapped me like a dried
branch and i wondered what
fire was it kindling with me? ”
Very Rumi-esque. Yum.
((HUGS)) for you and yours.
Alice
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“I like it that you’ve written this poem in a personal voice and at the same time expressed a universal aspect of human experience.”
Dear Alice, you could not possibly have paid me a higher compliment as this is, in my view, precisely what good poetry does. I do not like to speak of shoulds so I simply say that this is what it does when it is working well. Although it is hard not to see and talk about poems that are and are not doing what they should, like errant little children playing well or playing badly.
And there you go again, bringing up Rumi—Again, I thank you–
much love
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Good work, my friend. I’m glad to see your poetry. 🙂
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This is stunning work… this part:
“Life took me over its knee
and snapped me like a dried
branch and i wondered what
fire was it kindling with me?”
… is pretty much exactly my own wonderings at present. Thanks for giving me a new lens!
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Thank you so much, Tim.
One never knows….
so it is good to keep an open mind
and an open eye.
Thank you for your kind words.
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Wonderful poetry, very clear. And the comments expand it, in a good way. Funny thing about space and our assumptions.
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Sometimes our space
seems mostly made
of assumptions, no?
Thank you, Lynn.
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I predict phoenix.
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Burn, baby, burn! 😉
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