Tuesday, June 19, 2007

The Dust Of Meeting

When we met
after many days and nights,
days and nights that had spread and hardened layers on my heart,
layers of seperation
in seperation,
after many days and nights when seperation stays in the eyes,
hard to drop off.

When we met after this black science had destroyed my essence,
the vitality of my humour, the lies of my reason,
I thought of the trigger that will appear soon,
that spawns nights and days of thoughtless despair,
hard to break from.

When we met after endless hours, struggling to look each other
in eyes that have published misery and made it a discipline,
a perfection in silence. After all, who dares to look at love?
Love that is hard, not easy, never asked for,
hard to name.

When we met surrounded by symbols of parting, at an airport
beside the car park, lifting my heavy heart into the boot of the car,
driving blindly down a road that leads to a willow,
and a magnolia, bright with flowers or sad with waiting,
hard to cut down.

We always part in the afternoon, besides a garden that we grew,
surrounded by hedges, by silence.
You never look at me and I always look back, hoping
that you might turn, hoping that I might turn back,
hard to leave.

3 comments:

Alok said...

meeting and separation, seems like a constant theme whenever i come here.

this one is really beautiful...

KUBLA KHAN said...

thanks alok.
we only write so that the afterglow reminds us of the feeling and the effect.
the effect produces words that help a heaving heart.
yes, parting and seperating, memory and desire.constant.

Anonymous said...

In youth's spring, it was my lot
To haunt of the wide earth a spot
To which I could not love the less
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound
And the tall trees that towered around

But when the night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot as upon all
And the wind would pass me by
In its stilly melody

My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lone lake
My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lone lake

Yet that terror was not fright
But a tremulous delight
And a feeling undefined
Springing from a darkened mind
Death was in that poisoned wave
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his dark imagining
Whose wildering thought could even make
An Eden of that dim lake

But when the night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot as upon all
And the wind would pass me by
In its stilly melody

My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lone lake
My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lone lake

Springing from a darkened mind
So lovely was the loneliness
In youth's spring, it was my lot
In its stilly melody
An Eden of that dim lake
An Eden of that dim lake
Lone, lone, lonely...

I came across your blog and had this song play in the background..thought Id share. you should listen to it..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ue86XlCg8gk