if i were happy, truly
would that me still
be me
Listening to the opening minute of "Like Spinning Plates"
the quiet now when
once you
cut yourself to songs on boxes
shaped like hearts;

those edges
too have left
behind all blank and human
shaped a body trembling
Arianna Jan 7
"He who knows him who has no beginning and no end, in the midst of chaos, creating all things, having many forms, alone enveloping everything, is freed from all fetters."

                        ⸺ from The Upanishads: Shvetashvatara
                                 Upanishad, ChapterVI, no. 13

Aye, so it is, and what if
My spirit comes unbound,
Abandoning the senses
Of the body?

Hunger grows faint, and thirst;
I feel not the jaws of the cold
Locking into my flesh,
Nor the scorches of heat in my veins.

I answer to this name
Which nevertheless, I cannot trace
Back to myself,
And night after sleepless night,

It remains unclear
Whether I am dying,
Or rising into life,

A little bit of wine, and thoughts on a recent, and very persistent state of mind. Just finished a book about ascetic practices in the Middle Ages, and the ideas and theology regarding the body's sensory capacities as conduit/vehicle for spiritual experience and communion resonated profoundly with thoughts that have gone through my mind before, as well as with some more recent internal experiences. Had a copy of "The Upanishads" for a WHILE now, but have yet to read it; however, I was inspired to open it after reading briefly about the life of humanitarian-gone-mystic Simone Weil. I decided to flip to a random page and see what appeared, and the very first thing I read was the line quoted at the beginning of this poem. Fitting...

Sometimes, beauty just moves you. Sometimes, it drives you to tears (the racking, depths-of-the-soul sort of weeping): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZKpik4INq0

Also, Jordi Savall & Montserrat Figueras - "Sibilla Catalane (Seu D'Urgele, XVth Century)"
A glass of water,
Contemplates on cosmos;
Unawares, thirst spreads.
Arianna Jan 6
The nectar of fruit and flowers
Melts from the canvas,
Overflowing through the frame,
Spattering rich, honeyed rain
In bouquets

          Of burgundy and sky blue,
          Deep green blushed
          With rose pink and gold,
          Cherry red tempered
          With ivory and indigo

Oozing the savor
Of deep-timbred tones
Dripping with resonant flavors
Of color and chiaroscuro,
Painting a picture across my palette
As I feast with my eyes.
Got a thing for still life paintings :-)
enough with flippant poetry
just give me something heavy (yeah!)
you know as well as i do:
that's what depression's for!

(chorus?, then repeat)
Markus Russin Dec 2018
i couldn't quite define
those pangs against
the colder white—
appropriately snow
in what felt like december
Arianna Dec 2018
"... the earth trembles, and my soul swells

with all the frequencies of adoration

enraptured, a dove

          frail speck
          of dust


          weightless with exaltation..."
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