Outside My
Window, The Silence is Slanted
Listen to the sound it makes
when you come out
of your skin and
see yourself, all naked;
Time is your own construction
it is not the ticking clock.
Drinking few photons
of stainless quiet
on a weekday
makes me a bee, sucking juices
out of the concrete corrosions
A sway, a dance
on the velvet breezes
Now,
translate me to anything.
Sing me, kiss me
your pulses swarm my space
like the radio-waves; psycho-magnetic
feel free to throw words at me
if you don’t feel like talking
call me,
when you are finished
writing an unsayable tale.
I traveled to
the archaic pre-histories
of my underground
to see my unborn face, and there
I was a pagan, the son of Earth
with a God, burning inside
the same God
who doesn't live in your shrines.
According to Friedrich Nietzsche, "The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind."
ReplyDeleteJoseph Campbell made a similar point: "The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come. If you want resurrection, you must have crucifixion... We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."