Interesting meeting with a man today. Reminded continually of the frailty in essence of the existence of ‘the’ human condition. How existence is a personal experience, felt, reflected and renegotiated individually in the midst, in the bosom of society and culture.
All guarded I was,
Sat serene, unsure as you buzzed,
My mentality a little tired,
Your soul seemed close-to and cry’ed,
I was set apart,
I wonder what you thought as you set out this impasse?
Some flickering of light shines,
I cannot remember if I have any lines,
My curiosity piques,
But my tongue it still not yet free.
Something murky sits in between,
Communication requires patience,
A quality I cannot quite see.
Yet this condition.. I am drawn.. I wonder if you are you a whole?
I am reminded of the poet,
who has drowned out death,
through languages untold,
since days of our mutual ideological lore.
His refracted words beat in my chest,
I hold them like my faith close to my breast,
My empathic antennae quivering through viscous henna,
Quietly unsure if forces are pushing or pulling,
or that this is a base of trust blooming..
Let me leave you with these petals now,
As I allow my love, my heart to drown;
How long will you talk of the mosque lamp and the fire-temple smoke?
How long of hell’s loss and heaven’s profit?
GO, see on the Tablet how the Master of Fate
Has written what will be, before time began.
Oh heart, since the world’s reality is illusion,
How long will you complain about this torment?
Resign your body to fate and put up with the pain,
Because what the Pen has written for you it will not unwrite.
The Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam
These stanzas remind me of my love’s viewpoint. Though they stick with me, I feel in someway I am predisposed like Khayyam to keep pushing against these ideals of fate and acceptance. But more so than that to rail against or ponder on the upholding of expectation and falseness, confining cries from a world that only seeks to bind the lights within us that could shine so bright.