Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Midnight


A blanket of ether
Veils the moon from the sky.
But I can feel her.
Nearly at her peak.

She awakens a restlessness in me.
A desire to shift out of my skin.
To linger in the darkened stairwell
As a specter.

The warm light of the street lamp
Would bleed through
The diaphanous form I posses.
And I would be free.

I would float unseen
Through a lunar world
Exchanging atoms with the breeze
A part of the Everything once more.

This autonomy is leaving me bone weary.
These bones are driving me mad.
Here at midnight
My soul should be adrift.

4 comments:

ericp said...

I feel like what you're talking about here is death. Or a kind of romanticizing of life after death. Sort of Tom Sawyer coming back to witness his own funeral. At first I didn't get what you meant by "this autonomy is leaving me bone weary." But now I see it... you can't become part of the "everything" as long as you're corporeal.

A group of us were recently discussing burial vs cremation options, and I think the cremation option appeals to a lot of people because ashes can be spread in more romantic places then a graveyard. The beach comes up a lot. I guess you would choose a partly cloudy, moonlit street with lots of mysterious alleys!

Well, that's a little OT, but the point is that I think what you're describing here is actually a universal desire.

Rae said...

Honestly, I could leave my body discarded wherever it lay. It is my concious essence that I would like to scatter into a moonlit cityscape. Little thoughtforms peeking about in all those "mysterious alleys". And I hope it is a universal desire. Connection to creation is something everyone could aspire to.

ericp said...

yeah, but how do you get there? I suppose some people are hoping for an afterlife, but for those of us who are more skeptical, the only option we're left with is scratching our names on the concrete in the hopes that it will remain there after we're long gone.

Rae said...

Of course there is that lovely physical law which states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, so some part of us will linger forever in the cosmos. That is comforting in a way.