03-14-2014, 04:47 AM
I think I'm just going to play with this poem here, flesh it out here. I never do that. I'm starting to know what I'm trying to do. Once I get this 2nd section done, then I can start having me some apocalyptic fun. At least I've got the title now...
THE JUST WAR
When all victories be hollow,
When all intents without ground,
When all losses impending
But to the fate they are bound;
When no more we imagine,
When no more we believe,
When no more be a future
For the past to deceive;
When our desires desert us,
When our fears lose their hold,
When our hearts of this world
Have grown weary and cold;
Then will time so remember,
Then will creation relent,
Then will love's splendor bloom
In its kingdom's ascent...
*****
God is but a word,
A word symbolic of an idea,
The idea of an ultimate truth, a transcendent reality
Beyond our ability to wholly understand or express,
We of our limited hearts and minds, we of this creation,
This creation that bore us of itself, that found us in time,
Awoke us to gaze upon its magnificence in awe,
Opened within us an unfathomable depth,
A longing for our likeness, for what could understand our plight,
The fragility of our hopes, the cries of our wounded desires,
For a love inexpressibly true, a love of our very own making
Composed of a common empathy, the embrace of a common past,
Of our knowledge, what we know to be the best of us, the best in us
There in the vision of our innermost eye, arising from the abyss
The end in our beginnings, the myth and majesty of a human being
As towering and comprising as any God we could imagine,
Beyond our ability to wholly understand or express
An idea of ourselves, of our common spirit, our common self
In whom we find more of ourselves in each other,
We of this creation, we of our own creation, this bountiful self,
This truth and symbol of who we are,
God is but a word.
*****
What will have been our story,
What will we have made of our common lot,
To what end will our minds and our hearts have endeavored
But to seek and discover, protect and preserve
These stunning extents of ourselves, all in this life we love and desire,
This our beginning and end, the innumerable one in us all,
Here its beginning and end, this intangible mystery of place,
There in the womb, in the void, the tomb of creation
What did not exist there until, what of our wakening came to be,
Became for these our inexplicable distinctions of self
The terminus of our reason, the limit of our imagination...
(can't come up with the next 2-3 lines to round out the 2nd section...&$@#! More than likely a flop in progress...lol)
THE JUST WAR
When all victories be hollow,
When all intents without ground,
When all losses impending
But to the fate they are bound;
When no more we imagine,
When no more we believe,
When no more be a future
For the past to deceive;
When our desires desert us,
When our fears lose their hold,
When our hearts of this world
Have grown weary and cold;
Then will time so remember,
Then will creation relent,
Then will love's splendor bloom
In its kingdom's ascent...
*****
God is but a word,
A word symbolic of an idea,
The idea of an ultimate truth, a transcendent reality
Beyond our ability to wholly understand or express,
We of our limited hearts and minds, we of this creation,
This creation that bore us of itself, that found us in time,
Awoke us to gaze upon its magnificence in awe,
Opened within us an unfathomable depth,
A longing for our likeness, for what could understand our plight,
The fragility of our hopes, the cries of our wounded desires,
For a love inexpressibly true, a love of our very own making
Composed of a common empathy, the embrace of a common past,
Of our knowledge, what we know to be the best of us, the best in us
There in the vision of our innermost eye, arising from the abyss
The end in our beginnings, the myth and majesty of a human being
As towering and comprising as any God we could imagine,
Beyond our ability to wholly understand or express
An idea of ourselves, of our common spirit, our common self
In whom we find more of ourselves in each other,
We of this creation, we of our own creation, this bountiful self,
This truth and symbol of who we are,
God is but a word.
*****
What will have been our story,
What will we have made of our common lot,
To what end will our minds and our hearts have endeavored
But to seek and discover, protect and preserve
These stunning extents of ourselves, all in this life we love and desire,
This our beginning and end, the innumerable one in us all,
Here its beginning and end, this intangible mystery of place,
There in the womb, in the void, the tomb of creation
What did not exist there until, what of our wakening came to be,
Became for these our inexplicable distinctions of self
The terminus of our reason, the limit of our imagination...
(can't come up with the next 2-3 lines to round out the 2nd section...&$@#! More than likely a flop in progress...lol)
You can't hate me more than I hate myself. I win.
"When the spirit of justice eloped on the wings
Of a quivering vibrato's bittersweet sting."
"When the spirit of justice eloped on the wings
Of a quivering vibrato's bittersweet sting."