Jan 4
SHADOW PLAY
the shadow
(it seems)
creates this stone
that I
(motionless
& still)
sit upon
as if it were the centre
of this world
it is the summer
of my childhood
& the world
is making itself
known
to me
my mind
hungry
to learn
my own shadow
chained to me
like a soul to a body
longing
to escape
my mortality
it lies
like a fallen angel
thirsting for a Heaven
crestfallen at my feet
shadow plays
hide & seek
amongst the leaves
sunlight laughingly
chasing it
birds write
the notation of themselves
upon the telegraph lines
sounds morph
into each other
the moo of a cow
becoming the murmur
of a bee I try to understand
the existence of a me
the five-bar gate
prints its shadow
on the lane
smiling
at its own
distortion
wild roses
ramble from
hedge to hedge
honeysuckle
climbs
upon its own scent
I sit amongst
the milk churns
gleaming with the silver
of their laughter
as if I were one
of their number
waiting for a tractor
to escort us to
a faraway dairy
we three wise monkeys
(seeing)(hearing)(speaking)
no evil
in this the innocence
of my new & only
world
*
"Often, when I was alone, I sat down on this stone, and then began an imaginary game that went something like this: “I am sitting on top of this stone and it is underneath. ' But the stone also could say “I” and think: 1 am lying here on this ***** and he is sitting on top of me.”
Carl Jung
the shadow
(it seems)
creates this stone
that I
(motionless
& still)
sit upon
as if it were the centre
of this world
it is the summer
of my childhood
& the world
is making itself
known
to me
my mind
hungry
to learn
my own shadow
chained to me
like a soul to a body
longing
to escape
my mortality
it lies
like a fallen angel
thirsting for a Heaven
crestfallen at my feet
shadow plays
hide & seek
amongst the leaves
sunlight laughingly
chasing it
birds write
the notation of themselves
upon the telegraph lines
sounds morph
into each other
the moo of a cow
becoming the murmur
of a bee I try to understand
the existence of a me
the five-bar gate
prints its shadow
on the lane
smiling
at its own
distortion
wild roses
ramble from
hedge to hedge
honeysuckle
climbs
upon its own scent
I sit amongst
the milk churns
gleaming with the silver
of their laughter
as if I were one
of their number
waiting for a tractor
to escort us to
a faraway dairy
we three wise monkeys
(seeing)(hearing)(speaking)
no evil
in this the innocence
of my new & only
world
*
"Often, when I was alone, I sat down on this stone, and then began an imaginary game that went something like this: “I am sitting on top of this stone and it is underneath. ' But the stone also could say “I” and think: 1 am lying here on this ***** and he is sitting on top of me.”
Carl Jung
