What is that feeling when ...
when not what is seen
but what is felt
is not only not felt
by others,
but what has
provoked these feelings,
that thing seen
and so deeply,
soul absorbingly
appreciated,
is now dying,
disappearing,
evaporating,
never ... never
to be seen and felt
with such color
and flavor
of emotion
ever again?
Is it not the thing
that is dying,
but we,
we ourselves,
become chillingly aware
of our ultimate
aloneness,
our unavoidable
disjunction
from what must
have been an
hallucination
of a sharable
concreteness
to what we
have always
believed to be
reality?
And if that is so,
... what now
is the point?
I don’t know ...
I don’t know.
Maybe? ... Maybe,
share what we can,
when we can,
with whom we can?
In hopes that
if we do,
beauty itself,
along with
all the pause making
feelings it inspires,
might not die
and disappear,
as those things
we believe
to be beautiful,
themselves, fade
into nothingness?
I don’t know ...
I don’t know.
But one can,
I suppose,
hope
that it is so.
|
Wednesday, July 27th, 2016
Bridgman
MI
USA
|
