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Last updated July 31st, 2016

Silence

Apologies

Midnight Poem

Silence

I am silence
I do not judge
I do not believe
I am merely curious
about the ebb and flow

In strength I see charging bulls
In intellect the argument of two crows
In beauty the never ending tide
and in flaws I see the essence of perfection

I am a witness.
I am not an agent
Unable to see clearly
I wait for the season to shift
and all to come to light

Frustration boils beneath
men and women poised to fight
and yet, with every word spent in heat
non shall warm the ears
of the man who can not hear
I am silence.

 

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Apologies

This also appear in my bipolar section. It was written as an apology to my partner

It was when winter came that it hurt us both the most.
The bitter moods.
The recent mania that rose so fast and furious it cut us both.
Cut me twice.
For while it wounded my mind, and left me nearly helpless,
the tears I shed in private are for the times I hurt my love.
The times I was out of my mind and unable to perceive it.
I have trouble crying in front of other people, even my Jarys.
But alone, I do cry.
Tears of ache for the ability not to hurt the one I love.

 

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Midnight Poem

Hear me out, for whatever your position on faith,
I agree with you.
in a never ending tide of human experience

I flow through acceptance of truth as I see it
To rejecting the madness and the implausibility of knowing.
To becoming aware of a different kind of crazy.
Back to my hearth and out again.
When I believe, he's there, waking me from the dark
When I don't he finds me, teasing me for wandering away again

I have reasons to believe, mysteries to unwind
and yet to hear an argument
as to why I should turn from my wavering faith

Yet God as I know him is not taught in books
but experienced in every breath
through the grass blankets and under the halls of branches

How much like your god is my Raven Lord?
One interpretation of a sense of humour
as devilish as divine,
Is it scientific? can it be tested?
I believe it's possible,
but not within our means today.

And what shall we find through our microscopes?
A never ending riddle as to why we exist at all.
We are the eyes through which the universe see's itself.
I take it to heart that I must then see beauty in all things.
The cold logic of atheism,
the confusion of agnostics
The deep grace of Buddhists,
and the frustrated rage of fundamentalists.
All echoes of the battle within,
to control the passions without.

Ugly thoughts have their place,
why have light if not to defeat the dark?
For the end of that struggle would kill us.

The Buddhists teach that attachment to desire is suffering,
So then must be revulsion,
how many of us see our bodies as they are?
Works of art,
Each one a masterpiece because of it's imperfections
I think the soul must be like that

And when I try to imagine just what it looks like
I see God again, laughing at his playful child
Round the circle I go, faith to doubt to faith
Rationalizations for reason to reject
To being cold without his embrace.
Ending with his touch, only to begin again.

You can look upon me as a fool if you like.
I think I might agree with you, north by northwest
But I know things you do not
You too have a puzzle piece to yourself.
What say you, we open our hands?
And work together to see the whole picture.

 

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Last updated July 31st, 2016


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