To be dark is all right, for there are always luminosities of the o/Other running around in the forest of him/me/us. Remember. It is always there. Both, and.
Rumi:
A human being is like the rod Moses held or the words that Jesus said.
The outer is just a piece of wood, or mouth-sounds of a country dialect, whose inner parts can divide the green ocean and make the dead sit up and smile.
You see the far-off tents of an encampment. You go closer.
There is a dust-shape, someone walking near. Inside that, a man, bright eyes and the strength of his presence.
When Moses returns from the wilderness where he has gone alone, Mount Sinai begins to dance.
the luminosities of "you" running through the dark forests of "me". oh my. i very like that!! there's a tickle of edge every time i begin to accept the notion of the dark or darkness enetering into my own vocabulary as a begining writer. i shy away from it and yet it has so much to offer. steven
The forest image connotes thickness, the wild and unknown (and thus the dark). I like the contrast with "your wholeness" and its "luminosities", the light that comes in seeing through.
the rabbit soft, naive and nibbling by the river, the vulture enduring above, the trinketed shrine of once deer clacking bones released upon itself like lungs relaxing, the river shaping stone like drum, like bowl, like shard-sharp knife and rooting tool, i, who walk through the forest poking, plodding, hungry, entreated by the heady scent of springtime, interrupted by the roiling rot of skin, we are fingers on the hand of wholeness, a sole and scabby finger left to scratch the self, but together we are everything, together we are god.
I can't help feeling that Rilke, on this intense inward conversation, revels some rebellion against Christianity hypocrit prejudices and conventions. By the time he wrote the Book of Hours he was possessed by an intense passion for Lou, who was a maried woman. Maybe he saw himself as a dark forest because he was seeking for something forbitten which betraied Christian principles. Should love be restrained by prejudice? Do we betray any form of religious conventions just by seeking real love? It 's a pity when someone feels dark, full of guilt and remorse just for being honest about his true feelings. It reminds me the Middle Age Inquisition fires, when innocent people were burned to dead so that they could purged their guilts.
Cool and wonderful; a nice poem for early summer, too.
ReplyDeleteTo be dark is all right, for there are always luminosities of the o/Other running around in the forest of him/me/us. Remember. It is always there. Both, and.
ReplyDeleteRumi:
A human being is like the rod
Moses held or the words
that Jesus said.
The outer is just a piece of wood,
or mouth-sounds of a country dialect,
whose inner parts can divide
the green ocean and make the dead
sit up and smile.
You see the far-off tents
of an encampment. You go closer.
There is a dust-shape, someone walking near.
Inside that, a man, bright eyes
and the strength of his presence.
When Moses returns from the wilderness
where he has gone alone,
Mount Sinai begins to dance.
the luminosities of "you" running through the dark forests of "me". oh my. i very like that!! there's a tickle of edge every time i begin to accept the notion of the dark or darkness enetering into my own vocabulary as a begining writer. i shy away from it and yet it has so much to offer. steven
ReplyDeleteThe forest image connotes thickness, the wild and unknown (and thus the dark). I like the contrast with "your wholeness" and its "luminosities", the light that comes in seeing through.
ReplyDeleteyes~
ReplyDeletethe hand
the rabbit soft, naive and nibbling
by the river, the vulture enduring above,
the trinketed shrine of once deer clacking bones
released upon itself like lungs relaxing,
the river shaping stone like drum, like bowl,
like shard-sharp knife and rooting tool,
i, who walk through the forest poking,
plodding, hungry, entreated by the heady scent
of springtime, interrupted by the roiling rot of skin,
we are fingers on the hand of wholeness,
a sole and scabby finger left to scratch the self,
but together we are everything,
together we are god.
xo
erin
Each individual form is one ray of the full sun, one running deer from all fauna - one splinter of the divine.
ReplyDeleteWithout the darkness of the forest we would not know the light of the clearing.
wow!! Beautiful lines
ReplyDeleteI can't help feeling that Rilke, on this intense inward conversation, revels some rebellion against Christianity hypocrit prejudices and conventions. By the time he wrote the Book of Hours he was possessed by an intense passion for Lou, who was a maried woman. Maybe he saw himself as a dark forest because he was seeking for something forbitten which betraied Christian principles. Should love be restrained by prejudice? Do we betray any form of religious conventions just by seeking real love? It 's a pity when someone feels dark, full of guilt and remorse just for being honest about his true feelings. It reminds me the Middle Age Inquisition fires, when innocent people were burned to dead so that they could purged their guilts.
ReplyDeleteamen
ReplyDeleteLW