tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2379098365260485853.post6947609972754225302..comments2023-10-20T16:46:35.795+01:00Comments on The Little Wooden Boy: Down to sleepMose23http://www.blogger.com/profile/01100756913131511440noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2379098365260485853.post-55890395247210365752012-07-13T06:33:49.356+01:002012-07-13T06:33:49.356+01:00The being so alone with that nameless something......The being so alone with that nameless something... can this be the common condition (oft felt but ne'er so well confessed), or is it that we have something other than our usual here?<br /><br />Coming back to this, the spiritual solitude can be felt keenly, as also the honesty that can taste the poison in the kindness and also the strangeness in the sort of trust distilled (artificially? -- or is symbolically merely same thing?) in the host.<br /><br />But at best perhaps we can never be more than guests, or ghosts, at life's table. Hid behind the make believe cloud<br /><br />Chthonic fingers recalls from somewhere Keats's demand that poetry ought to be something "felt on the pulse". <br /><br />(Remembering he had been trained to be a physician.)<br /><br />Following the traces that lead back toward the original stain. Incalculable by any known bookkeeping means.TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2379098365260485853.post-36194610061418152462012-07-12T19:28:59.944+01:002012-07-12T19:28:59.944+01:00It's good to have some form of prayer to hand,...It's good to have some form of prayer to hand, given that the official forms don't leap from the tongue at present.<br /><br />Better the aching play than the bookkeeping, I reckon.Mose23https://www.blogger.com/profile/01100756913131511440noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2379098365260485853.post-86194311397673921272012-07-12T14:11:46.484+01:002012-07-12T14:11:46.484+01:00WB,
All conscious life leads toward puttering abo...WB,<br /><br />All conscious life leads toward puttering about at aching play in the twilight, as the long day closes and the shades of evening come on.<br /><br />__<br /><br />thinking shadowed<br /> the odd eyed ikon face <br /><br />It isn't the quiet so<br /> viscous and there<br /><br /> something utters<br /> coming from over the hedgerow<br /><br />__<br /> <br /> hid behind the make believe cloud<br /><br />__<br /><br /> There are that many chthonic fingers<br /><br />__<br /><br /><br />The hand will move where it list, steadyish or wobbly. It is a form of prayer, following the traces that have led us here..TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.com