Many of my poems linger in files, unfinished. I’m never sure of anything for long. Quite often the poet and the philosopher existing in my solitude are at odds with each other, or the pair gangs up against the certainty of experts our western culture values. I favour dynamic approaches to life, where faith and doubt are equally valued in the process of becoming human. The words of Hazrat Inayat Khan would apply:
‘The ideal is the means; its breaking is the goal.’
When making something audible and visible from the inside out, a topic I touched upon in my last post, only time may tell its worth. Once we shared our art, there is the waiting … the vulnerable span after exposure. Does our wave of inspiration chime in other minds, offer fresh perspectives, frustrate with surprise?
I hope you, my readers, can offer a reflection on the little poem I obsessed with revising over the last week, and maybe even share thoughts on your own revisions.
I first wrote ‘beautifully lost’ in 2005 and put it to sleep. Other versions exist. The latest attempt turned into a Haiku sequence. I’m not at all sure it’s an improvement compared to my first attempt.
The theme is cycles of experience, when after a period of loss and unknowing; a renewal of meaning happens that keeps me young at heart, connecting me back to the middle of each moment.
Beautifully Lost – 2005 version
At times no deed rhymes,
nothing I say is heard,
each word drops to silence,
and my best yarns slip
from the loom, waltzing
in endless loops,
On solid earth swords cut,
and chalices swallow us,
but once every full moon
King and Queen align their myths,
And I– beautifully lost –
dreams undone – whirl
at the gateway to an inner sun.
– Ashen, 9th Nov 2005
beautifully lost – 2015 version
when deeds miss their rhyme
and words fall flat on their face
I chase your fragments
in the wayward yarns
that fall off the loom and loop
on my breath – dazed
drifting without aim
they will chance the blade that cuts
or a gulping maw
until a full moon
weds the light of King and Queen
and my best yarns yearn
heart-whirling at the gateway
to an inner sun
Ashen, Jan 2015
And here a song …