Only An Exit
There is only an exit,
No extension of Eden.
Whatever orbits round you
Can always defy your gravity;
At any juncture released
To the laws of another planetary system.
What cannot be controlled
Seeped into informing principles:
The hour the heavens will reconvene,
The prophecy of the Second Coming,
Or the alignment of flesh and spirit.
Once you have exited all of this and that
What binds you to the conscripted world,
Its divergent realms and finite planes?
The truth is laid bare:
Another symphony of consequences
Sprung alive with rhythm and harmony
Hung note by note on wind, string and brass
Merged to fill your ragged sails
As long as the moment steps,
Keeps stepping forward into oblivion.
© ross 2023
This reasoning, by ending hinting at an untrustworthy oblivion, seems to still allow for the possibilty of an ‘entry’ as well as an ‘exit’, still poses the eternal question based on the complexities of ‘other unknown dimensions’?
Probably, the only stance to take? Intriguing, and well-formulated read.
That’s a very perceptive comment. It is the “moment” that is stepping into oblivion and not necessarily an individual as such. I’m trying to suggest that there are cycles whether mental constructs or something more which hint at unknown dimensions in an ultimately unreliable manner. It’s a little bleak.
Hi Ross, So nice to see you posting. It is a little bleak but then so are circumstances around us now… for those with eyes to see and ears to hear. Yes and lastly lucid minds capable of independent thought are becoming a rarity. Your poetry is often like an abstract painting to me. That is in no way bad for sometimes it is good to be challenged. 🙂 I keep trying to find the point of stillness after long meditations about exactly what “binds me to the conscripted world” My deliberations (in my world view) are that I must… Read more »
It is a time of being “stymied”. It certainly seems like there is more on screens than in the world. I’ve taken to drawing as you can experience engagement so fully without the emotional toll. I’ve enjoyed 20th century British art a lot in recent years. As far as the poem goes, I am compelled to use eccentric and singular imagery in the hope of drawing rereads which could reveal what is lurking beneath the surface. I love the way G. Bellini and C.D. Friedrich keep me wondering about exactly what is happening in their art. Kind of you to… Read more »