Max Ernst: Fruit of a Long Experience

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in dreamless night the candle is solitary
small in the darkness, not like a star, hidden by distance
dawn is come in hours, but only darkness is now
we whisper carefully, not to blow out the flame
time seems to have forgotten us, here in this corner
all places are the same in the dark, we could be anywhere
but time tells me, not everyone has a candle

I’ve been having what I like to call a deep weariness of the soul. Sure, pushing myself hard at the day job could be a factor, but I’ve been feeling at least something like this ever since the events (or Event) of January 2013, the last month of the last Year of the Dragon. Right now I’ve been thinking I am surely now entered into the second half of this think called life. And right now my only solace seems to be in writing. I enter something of a meditative state whenever I go there, into the written word, sometimes even to think that Eternity or a dream flows through my fingertips and enters the waking world. I don’t know what it will take to shake me loose of the attachments that wear on my spirit, but I know I have to find it. One time I took a screenshot of the lock screen of my iPad, and I looked below, where the glow passes through the words, “Slide to unlock”, and the light was just so that what seemed to be highlighted was “de to ur”: detour. Make of it what you will, I will take it as a sign: it is better to hope and to be wrong.

with a penny and a matchstick
i will macgyver a way to mend a broken heart
as i wait to walk free of this world
on imaginary feet dissolving in low frequency buzz
at the center of the circle room
the universe only exists on the outside of its wall
strange sigils cut into my arm
to reveal the light underneath my porous skin
o to be a butterfly, who knows little
of what it means, his imprisonment or freedom
that the great truths slide on
finding no receptor grand enough to bind to
or is it better to understand?
even the lost comprehend enough to want more…

i am a man from the wilderness
hairy and gruff, with eyes in the mystic woods
proclaiming, “burn with love!”
as the demons carved in soap bubble blindly
as snow falls endlessly at random
here at the beginning of all things, have you heard?
all of us everywhere are forgiven
just love it all as you dissolve into the eternal void