Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alberto May 1
Sometimes it's a consuming fire within me,
that wants air, reaches for the outside,
wants to take things and turn them
into light and heat and satisfaction

Sometimes it's gardening,
the cleaning and the cutting and the directing
and the watering and the waiting
and the enjoying

Sometimes it's a reign,
where I am the Sovereign
and I delight in Radiance to work
alongside my subjects.

Sometimes it's a curling shot,
taking something already in motion
and on me is the work of smoothing out
its path to completion.

Sometimes it's a machine,
that I daily operate and maintain and debug
sometimes hitching on silly small reasons,
sometimes during huge refactors.

Sometimes it's a story,
that while doesn't have me as the hero,
it has me as the protagonist,
the unerring point-of-view,
while the world always takes care
to accommodate me narratively.

Sometimes it is a statue,
which all I can do
is admire and marvel at.

Sometimes it's like a picture in my head
rich enough for me to get lost in,
like a pointillism painting
where every dot had something to say,
and yet, there are shapes in it
that exit the contours, alluding,
alluring,
and when I paint that into the physical,
someone else would come,
put their own picture that they also painted
side-by-side with mine,
find that the borders match,
and that the result is a greater view,
a grander tapestry,
more complete, yet hinting yet more,
a revelation of both new insight and new promise,
attracting us to find yet more matching
puzzle pieces.
Alberto Apr 27
Warmth burns in my belly.
I eat and consume,
powering my form.

When I touch things
they are transformed,
destroyed and made into ephemeral
memories of light and sound.

My life is my purpose,
to transmute.
I take mere matter,
the dross, the grist,
and turn it into beauty,
however fleeting,
a glimpse of the Creator
through the act of Destructive Creation.
My chants rise to the sky,
and my passion is helplessly on display.

I free the Energy that is hidden,
trapped within mere chemicals,
and show that so much of everything can serve as fuel,
can be input for the blazing experience.

Different inputs may color me,
but I remain true to myself.
My nature is not in discussion,
even if its manifestations vary.

I am companion, I am inspirer,
I am comforter, I am purifier.
I am reminder that all flows,
and that nothing is outside of the reach
of Change.

I live,
and my life itself is Beauty.
Shrouded encountering everyday alchemy
Wandering there where the mosses may talk to me
Under and over the ivy’s low canopy
Making my way in pursuit of some sanity

Sunlight is thwarted on slopes leading north as I
Silently savor the shadows that multiply
Junipers stretch between neighbors deciduous
Pine trees lie prostrate with limbs discontiguous

Here in the graveyard where logs become mortified
All forms of fungus will work up their appetite
Turning cadavers of trees into sustenance
Learning that death is a new source of succulence

Labyrinths circle and twist like a tentacle
Cloister-like pacing, profound-ecumenical
Joyfully chirping like children on helium
Life everlasting, give thanks to mycelium
I've been hung up lately on the rolling rhythm of dactylic tetrameter.
Sudzedrebel Feb 9
He stands upon a stalk of grain,
Rested atop a leaf,
Balanced on the branch of a tree,
Nestled on the back of an amphibian
Four who salute longevity.

She comes as a breeze,
Graceful & gently.
As like spring blossoms
She extends an offering,
Ripe & sweet
Is the fruit of her peach.

Those given to fanfare of the stork;
Who hold nature, like the cosmos, sacred
And celebrate its different changes & forms.
The way sometimes seemingly co-opted never suffers blockade.
Calcinatio Jan 14
Burn the dross with
steady heat.
Constant regulation
under furnace's feet.
Not too hot,
not too cold.
Steadily discover
the Goldilocks zone.

There's a blackening,
then the white-
before red comes
into play.
And there we find
the malleability
we seek for
every day.
If you look into the trends for what colors arise first in languages you'll see that it's believed that it goes: black then white, or black and white and then red.
This could be seen as the progression from black and white thinking into a breach of gradient, or color. Or from the black and white state of ignorance to the more hued life of the learned..
At the same time there's the symbology of the cyclical purification of the alchemical process and it's color associations of black white and red.
When you heat a piece of metal over a fire the first color is black because of the burning carbon, and then white from the ash, and then red as the molecules are at a very rapid state. This is when the material can be pounded or bent or finely worked to a desired form.
I find this metaphor deeply impactful and palpable and I often return to it in my work.
Matthew Bright Nov 2024
May there be a secret portal ,
old heartbeat of the earth ,
Dreamt Cupid stolen in his
sleep ,
by Darkness unobserved .

Coincidentia
oppositorum ,
Storm Angel and Wild Beast ,
Union of the Devouring Snake
and Lovers of the Chemical Feast .

When time has come full circle
and the tempest calls to
fly ,
we will meet in golden sunset ,
where our hearts are three ,
six , nine .
Matthew Bright Nov 2024
Eternity shivered ,
trembling at heaven's
radiant golden portal .

Countless crystalline
moments of time
dance , vibrate ecstatic .

Physical objects ,
now less distinct ,
fade to grey simulation .

Gloriously only a
shining path remains ,
Surrender, Devotion and
Pneuma .
Next page