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Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great
— Roger de Bussy-Rabutin, Memoir of Roger de Rabutin

Four thousand meters above the sea, I breathe without air
I feel the same when beside me you are no more
The black, the void chokes me in the moment’s despair
And The Scarlet Fear runs inside me with a thunderous roar

My aching marooned heart bleeds from behind
Of the darkened soul that consumes me at each stride
But love is the golden aether of my troubled mind
An oxygen supply brought to this confusion tide

Without your presence, they were icy nights
Though knowing your fire ignited with my fuel
Is a mild treat, a promise of a beautiful sight

Kindless trouble, is it all in my imagination?
And is the love I feel a mere foolish incantation?

I will never know until she answers my soundless voice
This poem follows a modification of a sonnet structure and follows the story of the previous poem, showing a layer of dissonant emotions engulfing the speaker.
David Hasselblad May 2019
Cosmic Ball

Dressed in a suit of pinstripe stars,
He’s discussed war and played chess with Mars,
Far, in foreign solar systems,
He chuckles with their planetary distortion,
He’s gambled for the diamonds of Neptune,
Bowled infinite starlit lanes with Jupiter,
Witnessed sacred scry’s and change from Saturn,
Witnessed lies, severed ties,
Much he has seen, he who walks starlit skies,
Martini’s of primordial soup,
With a scoop of star,
Shared in lieu of chaos, with Venus,
Knocking back a few, so far,
He’s raced Mercury around the sun,
Every lap done, feeling victory, whether he’s lost or won, praises they sung, harmony rung,
He’s sat on the surface of Sol, sunglasses dawned,
Other then growth and to learn he has no defined goal,
Just playing a role,
Breaking energetic chains,
And immortal bars,
He slow dances with a myriad of stars,
Celestial bodies of divine will, power, grace,
Orbiting around him in suits, silk, suede nylon and lace,
All dancing to a distant interstellar song,
A long distant echo of light,
A throng of stars creating the constellations mighty heights,
A universe locked in constant cosmic push and pull,
Never empty, never full,
He reflects, riding the back of a wild cosmic bull,
Riding back to mother, back to varied perspectives of what is true,
Back to a planet of green and blue,
Till the next invitation come queue,
To another night in primordial stew of sights and seeings,
Another quaint Ball with fantastic cosmic beings..
effie ebbtide May 2018
where do i even begin? to point
into five outward points is an idea that
only translucent particles of nothing or everything
can enjoy with real, unwashed hands.
the glassy revery of daffodils

and powers of numbers stretch
to an aether, a void worth unmentioning, unforgetting,
reforgetting and rementioning.
i say goodnight, even if we're already dreaming,
and maybe the night might undo its amnesia.
Coventore Feb 2018
I have been here so many times,
Experienced many falls and many primes.
I am merely a visitor, a player, in this game,
Here for a while before I shed my face and name.

But I play this game, and I do not play alone.
I know of people from the Aether; my true home.
They had come with me, but first I remember none,
Of who they are in this game, and where have they come and gone.

But our hearts will always bring us back to,
Each other's embrace, those words are true.
A wise man said that love is forever.
Past this life and beyond, we've been together.

When we find each other, we would rejoice,
For our union is beyond a mortal body's choice.
But I feel sorrow for the day of my soul's return,
To this place, and forget them for one more turn.

My dear family of soul and heart,
Please hear me now before we part.
I love you all, my words are too true.
I'm glad we've united. me and you.

I hope one day, when our lessons are done,
When we drop this video game to finally have fun.
I wish to explore infinity and beyond,
With you, until stars come and gone.

Thank you, my soul family...
Those people I have known in this life and in countless lives long since passed... I have to wonder how we've met in the Aether. I have to wonder what true glory we could achieve together. But for now, in this mortal coil, I am thankful that I have you. In this mortal coil, I am glad to call you my soul family.
Wedge Jun 2016
She sings along to the sounds of the world

The call of Fall when cascading leaves twirl

A tune so grand that even I, the nimble

Collapse to the beauty that makes my soul tremble

Whistling wind penetrating where no light has shone

Raging water embarks to leave the marks of melodies in stone

She founded the foundation without plan or overseer

Then pulled parts from the aether and built upon until even the heavens could hear

And when she leaves this world, I know the sound will remain

For even the hourglass of time cannot pass this single grain

From one humble human to another, I thank you for infinite days

For the melody that made the world and life that’s here to stay
(Sep-Oct 2015) I was at the university after a seminar. While walking across the quad towards the parking lot, I passed a couple sitting under a tree. They both had guitars and were playing together. For some reason, that sight hit the right spot and the words materialized in front of me. By the time I got to the car, I had a rendition of this poem. I wrote down everything right there in the parking lot before I left. It has since been slightly edited, but mostly is still comprised of the original idea.
Paul NP Jun 2015
Mist clouds forming on my skin
I dye my mind in thin formations
soft sentient siblings aviate my fingers
frost lit prisms projecting visions that I relate to
chromatic distillation fancying the minds eye
dark transient beings no longer apply
dispersing and spilling into stretches of time
Aether, Aether, help me climb.
Written while listening to Thom Brennan - Mist
AD Mullin Oct 2014
Is a realm where alchemy is alive and well
It resides in the aether making it difficult to envision
A place of dreams but if you are imaginative
There is also structure

Dreams without structure are just whispers of nothingness
Quickly dissipating
Without structure, dreams quickly fold back into the aether
Waiting for a less superfluous re-imagination

To make it on the physical plane, there must be roots
When dreams are infused with structure, roots can be found
There is potential that those dreams can wake up

When the dreams are provided with structure and
Are re-animated with function
Then we have a breath of life

Structure and function are what allows Us
To step out of dreamtime and into reality
To find the roots of that architecture you must have vision
Not see with your eyes vision, but a different type

This framework hasn’t always existed
Relations have created it
That’s why it’s recognizable
The framework are the laws, both natural and synthetic

It’s the place where duality and non-duality collide
It’s a place of transcendence
A place of truth
Maybe we can learn to see holistically here

Anisotropica has many functions
It’s art and science fused
It’s poetry and song and dance
And mathematics and physics and chemistry
It is an expression of sacred geometry
An amalgamation of binary and analog

The fusion of dreams and laws
Creates a space that can be mined for transcendence
A place where we can extend past many current limitations
It's a springboard to become who you are
AD Mullin Sep 2014
< - - Housekeeping - - >

Why is there no checklist for life?
Can you say … recipe for disaster …
If you’re planning to fail …
… then you’re failing to plan

I cut my teeth in a house where we could eat off the floor if we so desired
The floor was either that clean or some other innate wisdom was built into that statement

And I thought my inane wisdom came from ...

Do you, don’t you want me to love you?
#9 #9
Now somewhere in the Black Mountain Hills of Dakota
**** Sadie you broke the rules
Singing in the dead of night
Why don’t you stare into your own Glass Onion

… Beatles

(My head is spinning, ooh...
Ha ha ha, ha ha ha, alight!
I got blisters on my fingers!)
AD Mullin Sep 2014
52 Weeks: Whitman

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow’d wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

52 Weeks: Mullein**

The Red-Tailed hawk swoops by and catches just a glimpse, he tilts his head Dionysian style mouth slightly agape.

I too am a wild thing, I too am untethered,
And I sound animalistic in the dining halls of the tamed.

The final missile thud holds me in a sweet caress,
My likeness rockets earthward … tried and true and tired and truer,
I am coaxed into existence once again.

I maintain my aetheric ties as I know this is the roadmap back to you,
It’s nice to be enmeshed in the living once again even though they drain,
To drain is to live, one gives eternity to be mortal - it’s the only thing that ever made sense.

I won’t depart, I dig in my heels,
And I turn my back on the organized.

I am of the earth because I understand my antecedents … my mother’s mother’s mother …
And because of this knowledge of ante’s I can set prece’s, hopefully precisely.

I hardly know who I am or what I mean (on a good day),
But I am good for you none the less,
As our tastes and sounds and smells and touches intermingle.

And always I wait patiently,
for me for you,
for us.
An adaptation of Whitman's final stanza in Song of Myself

— The End —