The realm of clarity exists
where human law does not ,
where language does not ,
where logic does not;
Because feeling something
is altogether different than
merely knowing it.
Clarity comes in a flash of
l i g h t –
like lightening adorning the night sky with wild hues of silver and magenta…
demonstrating that truth can only be uncovered–
And we are better when we’re healed
than we were without scars;
and life has always held the same meaning:
its secret kept hidden in the
s t a r s .
Once you set eyes on it,
you cannot again go blind.
You are poetry wrapped in skin,
on fire from within.
I am just a collection of
ghosts and sin,
steadfast in chagrin.
Through you I can peer into realms unseen.
I count the stars in your eyes
and the light makes everything
Fire spreads too fast for water’s wave-
the world disappears
and you are the sun.
The sky falls into itself,
but your light remains-
And I am your reflection
hidden in the face of the moon.
Oh what truth,
what beauty lies in both of us!
In all of us!
Did you know it all along when you looked at me?
You have dug a hole in my wounds-
Released the poison and the fumes.
You made space there in the doom-
to plant seeds to grow
There is a disconnect between the
body and the spirit
when one’s mind is
a w a y ;
And though you may see me-
I am not here.
I answer a call that leads me astray…
To where I belong in a
f a r a w a y
where colors are vivid and melt
into each other in a quick embrace.
Movement and passion merging-
Like falling rain on a freshly painted canvas.
I hear music where I once heard screams.
s e t t l e d .
I am nostalgic and
h y p e r b o l i c
in this place of dreams.
Once upon a time
we were young.
We were wild things belonging to nature.
We were curious creatures,
creatures of light-
Dreamers and weavers.
When we were young
we were told that the world is at our finger tips
Instead of the truth
which is that worlds lay within them.
That, in our blood, instead of cells
belonging to the many galaxies alive in our skin.
That, like the universe,
we are still growing
But we’re told to have more
rather than to be more-
Or at least be us
Instead of making ourselves bleed more.
When we were young
we were inventors
who believed in wishes, shooting stars and adventures
We were not yet deprived of the light that shows us who we really are to each other:
One bound to the other.
We were not yet polluted,
our minds not yet molded.
We were not yet transformed
When we were young we didn’t question our own beauty,
we saw it in ourselves and in others-
untouched by human cruelty,
our thoughts were free to form and release
with conviction and ease-
our bodies were our own,
not touched and changed to please.
From children to grown-ups
like sinners trying to own up
to the lies and the faults of ancestors passed
instead of choosing our own stories
and forging our own paths.
We are told, over and over
who to be,
who to love
how to think-
as we grow older
we disconnect from one another
eyes outward instead of inward
chanting “we are free!”
while unknowingly being shackled and bound
unable to flee or
even just be.
So please tell me
how my dreams have turned to dust
and my love to rust.
How has my soul turned so cold?
And how did I come to hate my body as I grew old?
How can I go back to the way I once was
without spilling stars like blood
from hating this self and everything she does.
Un-cage and undo me
all that has been done.
Unravel and reveal this self
brighter than the sun.
Wake my sleeping bones
and set this soul on fire.
Feel my heart beat slow and fast
with steadfast desire
for all this earth-side life has to teach and to tell
to my aching spirit
to my wanting flesh
that wraps me up so well-
So I call on you
to take my hand,
carry who you can!
Build your castles up
and leave no song unsung.
Live the life you always imagined
when you were young.
Percy Shelley’s “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty” is a poem which reflects impeccably on the swift comings and goings of beauteous thoughts and pure states of consciousness. It describes the happening almost as a phantom, appearing suddenly and planting immediate inspiration within whomever it appears to before disappearing just as promptly and unexpectedly as it arrived. So quick, in fact, that it is impossible to fully grasp, and as a result you are only left with a shadow version of the state of being that you first experienced in its purest form. It is a phenomenon difficult to grasp, yet an occurrence one never forgets. The poem also holds strong themes of nostalgia and longing throughout. Shelley’s descriptions of mindful and intellectual beauty are both poetically beautiful and arguably accurate while the vocabulary in the poem fails to relate or connect fully to his description of ‘The mind in creation‘ (Part of his piece: “A defence of poetry“).
In his work titled “A defense of Poetry“, Percy refers to a phenomenon he called “The Mind in Creation”. He begins by describing the sensation as something self-forged and fleeting yet divine with lasting authority over the mind: “For the mind in creation is a fading coal with some invisible influence, like an inconstant wind, awakens to transitory brightness, this power rises from within” This description tells of a fading state of beauty that comes from your own pure state of consciousness and the power it harnesses to behold such fleeting light. This idea is divergent to Percy’s poem titled “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty” when he writes: “The awful shadow of some unseen Power/ Floats though unseen amongst us-visiting/ This various world with as inconstant wing/ As summer winds that creep flower to flower.” Here Percy describes an unseen source of energy, a traveller, which brings brightness and inspiration to those it visits. There is a clear conflict between the two concepts, whereas the first described the ability to achieve a state of purity and beauty from within, the second described an external force as the culprit phantom of light…though both are written as inconsistent and ephemeral.
In the following verses of “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty, Percy finds parallels with his description of The Mind in Creation when he reports on the erratic behavior and invisibility of this state of beauty: “With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon/ Of human thought or form,-where art thou gone?/ Why dost thou pass away and leave our state,” Though Percy puts it to much simpler terms in The Mind in Creation by using the term: “fading coal” to describe the fleeting state. There is melancholy and nostalgia in his vocabulary, suggesting sadness in the phenomenon’s truth: whether you’re ready or not, inspiration or new forming thoughts and state of mind can appear and vanish without warning. A sadness lies in this, and Percy demonstrates it well within his language.
Though Shelley’s grasp on intellectual beauty and the mind in creation hold contradictory concepts, he nevertheless succeeds to enthrall with his language and literal flow. His views on ethereal thinking and forming inspirations are both engaging and thought-provoking.
“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”
Welcome to my creative space where I will share my very heart and soul with the words spilled here. My aim is to connect and captivate and possibly transform the very world around you with the truth.
Stay kind and stay wild.