poem 1 from The Ancient Elm
I know it's all illusion
somewhere in my mind,
delusions bleeding through the air
on wings of empty sky.
Personas wrapped around myself,
my path is doomed to err.
Running through a universe
I know is never there.
And every vision chased
will only dim my sight.
A thousand fingers beckoning,
and none of them are right.
I typicaly object to writers explaining their work. Art should stand on it's own, but this is my blog so I'll do what I want. Anyway, for the first poem of The Ancient Elm, I wanted to set up the cycle by introducing the speaker as someone who, like so many of us, is caught up in the drama (mostly self-inflicted), emptiness, and confusion of everyday life. I also used the rhyme and structure to indicate a kind of rigidity or prison. Illusion is a Zen concept that suggests this prison is self-imposed and comes from an unhappy illusionary world we each create around ourselves to the degree we are not able to control our minds and find wisdom.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
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