Untitled - March 16, 2001
Renga #2 - An Exchange of Poetry Between CAS and I
As harsh winter turns away
from the warmth of Spring,
the ice floes begin to thaw
once more,
running heedlessly
to the sea.
Spring thaw
bring with them
flash floods,
just waiting for that moment
where the coolness beyond the ice
reflects the cold depths within.
the the warmth
also thaws
the coldest of hearts
so that
the first bloom of love
may peak it's head out
for the first time of the year.
Even as the day warms,
the evenings are still cool.
The frost that glistens on
all the branches that lay barren
melt away every morning
but return every night.
Entwined hearts
forever bound
feel not the cold.
The warmth
of the love
keeps the cold demons
at bay for forever and a day.
Forever is a word
beyond the merest measure
where what lasted forever
was but a day.
What melts without
but not within
leaves a chill
upon the air.
A heart measures
not in time, but
the life it leads.
A chill within
can lead to a
warmth without.
The grey wisps
lead us through
to a world of
unknown passions.
What life is lead
but the empty one.
What bleeds from a cut
but the sorrows
from cruel words.
What moves us through
from this world to the next
but for unknowing.
The empty life is lead
towards the happiness
that awaits it.
The scars in life
hold in
the hard won joys and sorrows.
Unknowing and Unseeing
are but two curses
that are feared.
The true and noble heart fears them not
it moves from realm to realm
learning life's lessons.
Happiness is an elusive goal
that remains far off
the road less travelled.
Sorrows and joys
are never had
in equal measure.
Unseen and unlived,
what we wrestle with
through every day.
Movement with a circle
leads in a futile motion
that ends at the beginning.
The weakest of souls
oft travel the
far off path.
The emotions we feel
are there to help the heart
grow in strength.
What can and cannot be
is but the illusion we live
every day.
The beginning is the end
and the end is the beginning.
An unending ring that cannot be broken.
Life and death
love and hate
all are part of the circle
of our lives.
By the thinnest of threads
we hold onto this life,
wavering along the edge.
What is felt is but in passing,
the briefest of thoughts
upon the day.
Living a myth,
struggling with the shadowed
corners that lurk within.
A circle of darkness,
even as the centre is lit.
Be they gossamer or gold
new or old
the threads of our being
are stronger than they seem.
Better to have
the briefest touches
upon our souls
then to never have
felt them at all.
What is myth,
but a reality
of a different kind
to be conquered everyday.
Even through the darkness
the faintest of glimmers
guides us through to a new dawning.
(
geocities.com/pdt_bear)