the forming of substance 03
Stephan W
(fallen  from grace)
~

"I have just come back from a party
where I was the life and soul.
Witticisms flowed from my lips.
Everyone laughed and admired me—
but, I left,
yes.. that dash should be as long as the radii
of the earth's orbit ———
and wanted to shoot myself."
~Soren Kierkegaard
~ ~

It is not enough...

It is never enough--
we need too much

But, here on earth
we have to make it work
so we call good-enough, "good enough"
and with gratitude, we
learn to take in what it's available to us.
But the truth behind it all remains--
the fact that we need so much;

Where is one that is complete..
and if so, complete--

compared to what?

There is a perfection- cloud-hidden
within everything that is human
The spirit within the body that carries it--
b r e a t h e s  out perfection's truth,
though- we may only experience it
in the moments between awake and asleep-

the human psyche is bent on survival--

and in a broken world, the thought of an
inherent perfection brings on too much--
our own condemnation even.
In our minds we fall too short of even the
concept of it.

Or do we?


The gravitational pull towards Muse
borderlines on that of addiction;
its stirrings touch what is primal in us--
once-inexpressible words, suddenly find expression;

And a Beethoven finds musical notes
that lead to a symphonic masterpiece.

"Words from Heaven" is not saying too much
concerning the poet, or lyricist.
"Music from Heaven" is easier to say,
when concerning a Mozart or Beethoven.
Or a Tchaikovsky.

Perfect reaching into the imperfect?

How about 'imperfect'- feeling, and then
expressing pieces of its own long-forgotten
perfection--
things experienced within the sphere-
made tangible again through the flesh,
simply in a moment of remembering..
and also that of a temporary forgetting--
of limitation.

The beauty of despair is in the heartbreak
of finding out that what is right in front of us
is never truly enough

or worse yet--
possibly even harmful to our own true needs.

What we need most is all and everything
that helps us remember--

That we came from perfection,
and were loved there first,
and now, within the imperfect-
are unable to be denied by the perfect that is
forever inherent in us--

It is completely unable to deny that
which is of its own.

If we were to never despair over what is in
front of us, we might never be compelled
to find the strength to remember-
flashes of the primal--
that of our own history, of perfection.

And if there ever were ever an evil,
or a Darkness-
it would be hell-bent on keeping us
from finding that very thing.


Sometimes.. just sometimes,  death
looks just like love.

Peace rings with Harmonia's song
Balance floats with your soft hymns
Winds skip past, flowing effortlessly as leaves dance
My eyes open, all is shed, and clarity sets

Your frequencies screech
Chaos jabs at the foundation
Shadowed by Eris's blackened wings
Uprooting and dismantling me, but why?

We exist together, to bring growth

To see through that foggy glass window
I jumped over the upside down rainbow
From a place of pure heart and sorrow
With eyes that shined without halo

To see the flow of karma
As cause and effect made love
With the rivers and chains of life
Building and waving through time

It is a moment
of total clarity
Giving you serenity
and graceful harmony

Crossing carelessly
Crying passionately
Singing voicelessly
Whispering silently

This passion from many selves ago
Bearing the fruits of understanding
Of that unknown certainty
And that clear mystery

Once again I sit in love
Feeling the being of this
Existing without masks
Seeing without pasts
As joy explodes in my heart
Mixed with deep gratitude and love
Of the perfection,
In me
In you
In us
In this

I've returned,
I've transformed,
I've found love and comfort,
I've sought out for the unknown,
only to realize that it is faster than me.
I've not yet discovered my true self,
my passions, my drive and my goals.
and yet, as I tread, growing tired,
I realize that sometimes the unknown
will remain unknown.

If I told you to visit this moment
To look around just an instant,
Would you refuse, would you consent?
Would you see what no-else can?

If you did, how could you share?
In penumbra, light up the flair?
What if you did, what if you dared?
What if you did yet no-one cared?

Everything sees through its essence,
Anything else it may comprehend.
Here lies the Fog, a forest so dense,
Spreading across, throughout the land.

Right up in front, close to your faces,
Written in crust are a thousands promises.
And along its growth at increasing pace,
At each of your blinks a few words erase.

Now you look back, but now it's too late.
Now's what you'd purchase at any given rate.
When there's no time and where there's no fate
Nothing no longer ever has to wait.

Plunged in darkness, see that you're blind;
Even there lurks something that shines.
Here is the Way, that path you must find,
Hidden within and without any sign.

When life stretches much too far to see,
To look way further is never to be free.
When gazing below, deep down the dark sea,
Know that beyond always floats this clarity.

So here I've been asking, but I'll ask one more time:
Having been through, is there two of a kind?
When raised in this manner, no question's ever clear;
Thus poems and rhymes are allowed to end here.

your shadow, i found,
was still clearer then your face.

The stress on my chest
Let's me know I did invest
Something into my heart
Breathing life into this art

Getting use to these sensations
Reverberations of my inner
Bright begins to fill the hole
As I break the mold

From stories that are old
Ingrained and overtold
But the darkness of that night
Adjusted me to the light

For when I hold both
Each in the palm of a hand
All is revealed
The grandest plan...