bearing the world upon your shoulders
crippling to grasp and smothering to your soul
is this world even worth it
when there is so much darkness
atlas telamon, enduring atlas
the fates born and fostered by you
past, present, and future are
within your arms
the weight is magnificent
the torments and sins of this world displayed so glaringly to you
the pains of humanity are your pains
dread of uncertainty haunt your mind
regrets are
everflowing
yearning for past love in present time with the future a fog, but known too well
as history repeats itself over and over and over
right before your very eyes
you see a glimpse of light
effervescent
fleeting moments of light in this world do occur
but this
this light is strong, it is powerful, but as imposing as
dandelion tufts in a field of grass
like nothing you’ve ever seen before
it takes your breath away
this light is welcoming, like a laugh, but
dare you look?
dare you entertain something more?
you let yourself gaze and behold
a familiar beauty
distant memories and uncoordinated thoughts rush in
the screams of this world
the moans of your own soul
and you realize there is no darkness without light and no light without darkness
it never was and never will be
for all the magnificence this world has to offer
this light was the most beautiful you’ve ever seen
and you look
you really look
for more than a millennia you’ve shouldered the world
the inhabitant’s sins growing to become almost unbearable
the horrors manifested in such barbaric ways
in fact in many ways, you saw the earth was simply
a manifestation of your own inner self
you had become something different in carrying the weight of this world upon your shoulders
or were you always this way?
you are almost blinded with the light
and you falter
you shrug
you feel your shoulders lower, ever so slightly
this small shift in your stance causes the entire earth to quake
earth’s oceans thrown into a multitude of hurricanes
glaciers fall and cause cataclysms of avalanches
earth is no longer recognizable
and yet your soul remains intact
thunderstorms and lightning light up the heavens
dark clouds resemble thick smoke
a battle of the gods
giant gusts of wind rush over entire bodies of earth in the time it takes to whisper your name
violent tornados whisk the contents of the landscapes away
turning shards of ice into lethal weapons
and jungles into something akin to what was once the oceans
deserts into blenders where sand is more like billions of bullets
and swamps into sinkholes the size of continents
and through this all, happening in only a matter of moments, you worry you’ll blink
and the light will dim, or vanish entirely
what if the light was a dream?
but if felt like the realest thing you’d ever known
so unabashedly existing, almost in spite
darkness made this light stronger
this light gave darkness its origin
and as the flames of this world flood your peripheral vision
the light in your pupils
you inhale
and you blink
as your eyes open, you sigh out huge relief
the light is still there
and in breathing, your shrug becomes full
the world inferno crashes from your shoulders
the poles of the earth leaving your grasp
plummeting into the cosmos of eternity
embraced into the arms of another orbit unknown to you
out of your vision and off of your shoulders
your soul remains intact
and with great effort, and patience, you place your hands upon your knees
and you stand
to see the light in its full glory is to know that this world never meant anything at all
and you inch forward
for the first time since almost even you could remember, you’re not stagnant
and as you get closer, you marvel at how the light shines the exact same, not darker
not even brighter
you had wondered if you would see the light more clearly once you were closer
but no
this light existed in spite of you, in spite of the heavens, or hell, or the conception of this world
and your arms reach out, trembling
your breath shuddering
your skin is on fire, and covered from head to toe in goosebumps, you feel the winds of time breathe on your neck
suddenly the light envelops you
your eyes well into tears and your body quakes from your sobs
as did the earth
silly earth
no truer joy could you imagine
no stronger ecstasy could one feel
your body relaxes, and you breathe in sync with this light
you vow never to leave the safety of this light
if you had to carry this on your shoulders forevermore, you would
and you would not falter
and you would not shrug
your eyes already covenanted to never look away from the light, but to marvel together at the universe
in harmony, you move as one
your breaths and laughter creating a symphony of sound and light
a rose nebula
amongst many, yours and the lights story would be a sacred teaching, passed through the ages of humanity
written in stone
carved into the rocks of our planet
told through ritualistic dances by shamans
shouted before the battles of vikings
transcribed by the poets of all time
made into lullabies for the offspring to come
your very own song of solomon
eventually this story, your story, would turn into fable and myth
the earth so far removed from your presence
galaxies away
no matter who believed your story, or thought of it as a simple bedtime fable
it was always told as
the epoch genesis of love
•

The “little” Art I Possess

~writ for, inspired by, and warmly dedicated to
Kelly Rose Saccone~

“So an artist does…They say that often when you fill your walls with art you often forget it’s there and you don't absorb its beauty, but I enjoy what little art I have everyday. Sometimes it is just the color or the passion that hits me anew when I look at them.”
KRS

<~>

long ago the new~knowledge,
“newlodge” came brewing~infusing me;
art was not capable of being possessed

my reversal~eyes opened
the senses over~fulfilling,
body sensations brimming,

for I was the container,
only in temporary possession!

the art, in whatever the day’s chameleon guise,
is the professor-possessor, I am the missionary~emissary
remaindered by-product,
just
the vassal~vessel

when to gaze upon a poem~creation of years ago,
my expected mistakes appeared, a wee pride,
largesse of satisfaction, but these are frailties,
weaknesses, human misperceptions,
human ill-delusions!

never

ever was a poem among my possessions,
it was “in-sighted” within me
what was placed in my cupboard,
stored by my sensual conduits,
mine only to covey, not to covet,

art that tempest resides in as part,
a parcel in of the entirety of your body+soul composition,
but “out for delivery,”
seeded, stored & carry~birthed, given forth,
in a completed quantity
that’s so grand,
it takes five senses to truly comprehend!

it is pieces, a child of you,
recombinant,
you the birth sac,
how could ever be assessed as merely

little?

you are better understood to be a translator,
a temp~progenitor,
taking what all of nature and human experience
has installed on your inner walls, and then dispatched,
by you, gestated and unhesitatingly dispatched,

and when gift unwrapped from the plain brown paper of
our now orphaned belly skin,
it is to be hallelujah greeted,
for you, artist, translator, poem~mother,
have done you job, hallowed and sacrosanct,
and now the renewed giant emptiness,
will soon,
needy to be refilled, and
retransmitted once more:

this is no little, limited, mean feat,
your gifting is
beyond any words that limit,
no size constrains,
no words,
neither sufficient and insufficient,
you, are in loco parentis,
you’ve take what you/we are given,
beyond sizing,
and it seizes and is seized,
until you give it away
completed

and that is the grandest art .
inseminated within you,
true artistry!




7:42am
Fri Oct 27
2023