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#bardstalkingtoeachotherinpoetry
I shudder to think, for your poem decries "being under anothers power". Yet, are we not born by the power of another, grace, and that of our mother? Is it not our solutioning with the Earth becoming more concentrated, The power of another, that realizes us becoming, potentially, you, me? And when the vitality, rigors of youth are supposedly betrayed by the wisdom Of middle-age, are we not also more so for that, our doings not more real? And when old age seemimgly takes our senses, not the sixth, our muscles, But ..., the sinew, our bones strength, but the marrow's, do we not still be More so, alival instead of survival, outstretching an arm to lend a hand, By the power of another, betwixt an Earth, Sky, with a Sun, a Universe? Aren't we also to cherish life no matter what, strive to be alive, thrive? And after we, "Do not go gentle into that good night, and rage, rage against The dying of the light" (Dylan Thomas), will we not finally, again, join in The Cosmos' eternal 'dance of spheres', it's cacaphony, symphony, as stardust Sprinkled from above or petals dancing on the breeze, by the power of another?
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May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 3:09 AM UTC
reality
The Convolution's But A Speck Of Dust Passing The Evolution's Eye
I shudder to think, for your poem decries "being under anothers power". Yet, are we not born by the power of another, grace, and that of our mother? Is it not our solutioning with the Earth becoming more concentrated, The power of another, that realizes us becoming, potentially, you, me? And when the vitality, rigors of youth are supposedly betrayed by the wisdom Of middle-age, are we not also more so for that, our doings not more real? And when old age seemimgly takes our senses, not the sixth, our muscles, But ..., the sinew, our bones strength, but the marrow's, do we not still be More so, alival instead of survival, outstretching an arm to lend a hand, By the power of another, betwixt an Earth, Sky, with a Sun, a Universe? Aren't we also to cherish life no matter what, strive to be alive, thrive? And after we, "Do not go gentle into that good night, and rage, rage against The dying of the light" (Dylan Thomas), will we not finally, again, join in The Cosmos' eternal 'dance of spheres', it's cacaphony, symphony, as stardust Sprinkled from above or petals dancing on the breeze, by the power of another?
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