Tuesday, August 09, 2016

Poem: World Weary

The sun itself is filtered
through clouds
then wafting green leaves
window blinds
short-sighted eyes.
We live in shadows
because we cannot endure unapproachable light 
And some of us know that we live in shadows.
Others mistake the shadows for true light
and call themselves visionaries.

The artistic vision filters too.
A blinding flame
quickly unveils itself
like a flasher on a subway train
speeding through a dark tunnel.
We grasp what little spark we can reach
of the still-flickering idea.
Even so, it dims 
as it passes 
from spirit to mind
and from mind to the creating hand:
words and 
images and 
the elements of storytelling must be used.

Then, the work finished,
is filtered even more
in the mind
then the heart of the reader;
they believe they have caught the flame of our idea
but it is pale fire.

We must accept this:
The world is full of declension.
In this world, 
Everything bright is dimmed.
Everything filters down.

I am weary of all these shadows
of making them
of trying to see the light beyond them.

I am weary of these filters.
Oh to see the  clear sun
without blinking.
To see the heart and soul and joy and pain of another.
To spiritually, emotionally, intellectually
grasp the artistic vision
to perfect it
that all may read it
and understand it
and feel it perfectly.

To see God in all His brightness
the true brightness
from which all bright souls
and bright visions
and bright sunshines come

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