Feather

Feather Feather that flutters Flutters from the skies The heavens immense The Place wherefrom the Voice The Voice that inspires The Voice That when it speaks Not the hand of the Poet Seer Trembles Not the brain of the Poet Seer Lights But the hand of the heavens Trembles The brain of the Poet Seer Lights Soul That so persecuted be Soul However deep However noble Your roots Your genealogy Cut off The chains that tie You to the rocks of pain Of order imperative No, no, the Individual Sovereign Will No, no, Let the Deep Inner Soul be sovereign Not else Not else Butterfly That flutters Though The night is still Only just past Midnight The night still Has deep roots The night Still reigns But A lonely butterfly Hovers merrily And flies swiftly: Ah! butterfly The darkness yields at last The heavens open The gray begins And whitens And walking comes the Dawn. Let the night fly Let the night fire Light The flames of the dream The Poet-Seer is sleeping on the rocks The hard rocks Outside The cold, the frost, the winds That neigh The night Is become servant of the Muse Temporarily: And through the night Dreams in the Sub-Conscious The Poet Seer And With the waking of the Dawn Sings with open eyes His songs, His verses. Day of the night Where The night held sway Sway From the Dawn That rose bleak And dreary: And In the day Till the day The whole day Remained Dreary And thus The night held sway Even in the day. Museum under the skies The heavens Open Dilapidated stones Columns Glories ancient Yet Inspiration to the bold The brain that works Hammer hammers The tongue The Voice Of the Poet Seer who sings. Muse That travels lands Whole lands in Just one single night And then Sweet tiptoeing Into an eastern cave Wakes the Dawn. Psyche slept Dreaming Her Sub-Conscious Divine Moved her in the heavens And spoke Thundering Yet sweet The voice of Jupiter: Then woke All startled The sweet goddess But Around her the gray The first whitening Of a new day By her side Gently tapping her awake The Dawn. I heard the chains Drawn One after one The chains The night The chill The frost The muteness of drear: I heard the chains Drawn One after one And now and then A groan and then Another groan And Then The chains moving Moving Again Again Again and again And midnight Is long Long in coming And Yet The chains Move and move And move Not stop Not yield Nor the groans. When the song is done Let it be done Not even a verse Increase No, no even a word In that monument Of marble verse and song New Michelangelo. Not much Not much No, not too many words But verse Verse and song, Just verse and song. Tree That this Winter Has For so many nights Withstood so much Frost chill and neighing winds and whose horrid suffering fortified with the fortitude of suffering the roots the very roots the nobility that ancient earth of the genesis and growth evolution of the Inner Soul. Ivory towers That this rare night Rose in the upper heavens High Distant From our rotating earth Where so many sleep Somewhere Where so many wake And toil Somewhere And yet The ivory towers in the night Rare Rising Rising in the upper heavens Throbbing night Why speak I so much of the night? Why speak of feeling Trembling? Kierkegaard spoke of Trembling. I speak of the night. Ah! for thinking I realize That better is the night Than day for us. Rise humans Cast The chains that still Remain Like squids around Your Individual Sovereign Will: That will be More More than the Revolution 1688 The French Revolution 1917 Sleep, sleep, sweet child For Today the heavens are of clouds And startling hawks around Circle That I saw not before: Sleep, sleep, sweet child. The lines speak And loud Their utterance As it the heaven’s utterance As be The Voice Of the deep Inner Soul Ancient arcane nobility. Around Around The bees of verse and song Humming Humming verse and song Sucking Sucking flowers wide and Wide-eyed Murmuring Whispering as the fairy waves Awoken by the Dawn Around Around The bees of verse of song. My wish, the child Born With blue-green eyes: Not beauty in extreme But health wise, Yes: And when you grow My little child With beauty of the body A body that growing be Join my little child Join your intelligence And cultivate That magic tree: It will give you sufferings It not yield too much Of power, wealth and The like: If you go by me: But It will make you great And it will make you wise You only have to suffer You only have to toil And then you have to will: My wish, The child. Come, come, fairy cloud The heavens thunder loud Crestfallen is earth’s shroud See, see how hawks abound And eagles too in skies Where beauty in dusk lies. And the power of song And verse I feel along And thoughts too start to throng. When my hand types On the keyboard Trembling with each Word Each line My heart is open As with a knife That even if it know There’s no dissembling But just Bare, open, red, and Blood And no, No dissembling. In to a long tunnel of night The vessel of thoughts alights And on and on and on delights Into these golden realms Shoot rare yet sudden beams Flashes, thoughts, screams. And then the red dusk pines And then night start to dine With napkin and red wine. In the long, long, night to come Help me, my Muse, watch Over me. Long is the night for a sad Heart – more so for such a Solitude. And in this lowness and in This misery, my Muse Donate your Fortitude. A fairy tiny a large harp Was holding Singing. Nimble her fairy fingers Sweet her mouth Her verse noble. And saw the night And loved and danced The night-stars in delight In the long annals of verse and song So many a Poet-Seer And I among. Together heavy breathing throng So many a Poet-Seer And I among. And in this world of suffering Cluster so many in the throng And I among. Bring me the temperature For like fever rises, Rises verse and song. At times low somewhat Then in proportion parched And slow. But then arising as the Dawn, The Sun, the drunken magic Revels in its magic own. Blue were the skies this morn And yellow gold the mane of the drunken sun And in gray rainbows Dawn was born. So many colors, yet in man In us humans there be more So more of wonder to think and pen. Yet blue were the skies this morn And yellow gold the mane of the drunken sun And in gray rainbows Dawn was born. Ah! verse and song The more you drink The more addicted: One potion drunk Will other potions Bring One after one And For that drunkenness The better are we all, We, The inhabitants of Earth The better are, And rise en masse, Without our willing much, Listless Yet relentless Of Evolution the march. Bent the flower For touched with chill From the drunkenness of midday Silent it lay and still. Mute the petals fell. And turned inside. And in the distance Rang a vesper bell. Bent the flower For touched with chill From the drunkenness of midday Silent it lay and still. Like to the flower after Sunset, after dusk Bend we. Like to the autumn cool Before the fierce frost of Winter Bend we. Like to a fallen sun That swelled with midday’s pride Bend we. Ah! frozen the face of the lake And ruffled in its feathers the owl For it be Winter. You heard before mid-night and After too the rains the thunder For it be Winter And though the Dawns arise Day after day, most drear be they For it be Winter. Fog arising, fog falling, Mists trembling, Twinkling. Rain gushing, hear How on the roof It is falling. And it is night! From bed There’s warm delight But ah! the thunder Sparks lights and roars Outside. So much I sing, Of such weather So much. For in such weather My brain breeds more Song and better. The chimney high Affronts the sky And night-storms. Alight the thunder Lightning The chimney’s trembling! And then the end: goes The wild tempest, exhausted before Dawn flees silent. Magic church, chapel Small in the wide Countryside. How many a vesper How many a sad day You witnessed. Few the happy days And rare: So we, we humans. Verse speaks As the great heavens Speak. Their voice Is as the Voice Of the great heavens. Of verse the sounds As the great Ocean waves Noble rebound. How rose the night And the star light To-night! Too quick, too still Amidst the chill To-night! Seeds of beauty In the Dawn strewn flourish To-night! Remember you? In the garden you were That by Floriana’s bastions Descends. Remember the walk Amidst the flower aisles The trees, the fountain, The stairs, the looking From the bastions? Remember the heavy thoughts Calculations, worries, Though shone the sun For nigh to mid-day was Yet low, Low my spirit mourned and Lay. Amorous beach, but not With humans amorous, But birds of love And song In the red dusk.