Poem showcase #1
Josh Macloud
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SET ONE OF THE CHRONICLES OF
CREATION
Josh Macleod @ copyright
"THE SONGS OF CREATION"
Beginning
The blackness is oppressive
A stifling, cold dark where no light guides you
You feel clammy, cold, hot, pensive
You feel these things yet you do not
You feel nothing here
Yet you know, in ways that can not be described
That it should not be so.
At this moment of true clarity
Something happens, it happens
A change in the endless night
Greater darkness in exchange for more light.
A Song begins here. Only now.
Only here. The light is torn
A jubilant song of people
Of millions of people yet unborn.
A note piercing the darkness
Falling as quickly as a tear
But only you are here
Only you can see
You and He, Creator, Master, manipulator
You are the eyes for people yet unborn
Remember well, for you are alone.
First Lap
You finally see in the gloom
Small pinpoints of light that grow brighter by the minute
Every second they look more like light anon.
The prickling warmth fills you
Now you hear, see, touch
Now you are; light has come to you
Then all created gives one lurch
The chord fades into the night
Leaving you to see the light
You are awed, subdued, by the might
Of He who created this for you alone
To rend and tear to your own patterns
Weaving a song, a minor chord, a lantern
In the darkness for the nest ones to roam
Knowledge comes with weakness
As you fall into the blackness of your mind
Brighter than the darkness
That is outside you, you know this, find it.
You are to leave, to search, and watch anon
But never remember
A Grim spectre, denied to visit your small kingdom
Denied to see again that which you see now
So remember, you will not see again
That which you see now
Remember.
Second Lap
You are moving, roving
Always moving, never stopping to see
To rest, to dream, to be
You rest your eyes from the light
Which hurts you now that you know
Know that you span, travel eons, that it should be so
Yet it should not be so
In being not so, to you
The new is born, the old will die
Die, to be not born
Or born again--
You know not which.
You can only know that looking back
You can see what you've added
Helped create, saddled
On people not yet born, but waiting with a lack
Of life. A loss in each chord
Each new string he pulls
Songs amid the darkness.
Ending
You float in new dark
Yet maybe old
Aye, older than you, more bold.
Maybe another pulls the strings
Other voices sing
You only know your small place
To bring the life to light
A new people, a new race
New anarchy brought to face
People, things created with a small chord
Small they are, yet large, chaotic
Disrupting the harmony or the lord.
One small string
In one endless flute
But a binding nonetheless
But such harmony may not suit
May twist off His finger, our marriage ring.
Pulling farther away from the mother
To the all, the Lord, the Master of every
String pulled until all breaks and you create another.
Failure
The song has been sung again
A song such as never beheld by mortal ears
The second time since remembrance
You look, no sense, the one you left
And now you know why you can not return anon:
The lights still form, dissolve, the centre rots
But still it expands, unable to pay for the richer lots
And at the centre lies the cause of the Wrong:
They, mortals, your creation, your pride
If you know the meaning of the word in the feelings you so well hide
They break the chord, and end the song
The glorious song, ending on such a bitter note
Yet you still form, still add another touch
Still right the balance in your own way, so wrong
So wrong how all creation, with you a speculating
Changing spectator changing the rating.
The song, the cry of your string as it weaves
It's final note, plays to the very eaves
Of creation, and light
You turn and finish the string as the light shines again.
It fails, as you watch with your new-burdened heart
No longer fast enough, no longer caring
No longer thinking about it marred, the art.
Art of Loss
Slowly it hits you
The loss of old, no new
You fall, despairing at the loss
Remembrance brings you
Pain burning, light blowing, tossed
Tossed like the old, the string pulled too far.
You feel pain, burning pain
Your "vision" blurs and water covers the land
Tears of love and loss blaze
So long denied with every thought
With death and memory they were bought.
You see, through the haze
See life once more
Creation unmarred
And through your love and sore
You hear happiness and joy
The grafting of you and He
You are like a boy
First of Many.
Somewhere you hear you Father laughing
It is good, you land, you live, do not tarry
You are the chord! For good or ill
The road is your alone. You are at the tiller
The string grows taut.
Remember,
A voice on the wind
Remember, my Son
The laughter I give you, to create.
You grin at this gift
You cry, and do what pain allowed naught
You do what many have sought.
You laugh, and it is good
You turn down the straight road
Mindful of the curves and bumps
And leave, to being again
You will stay here now, forever.
Far off, beyond all
The string is untouched, waiting for the dream to end,
Waiting for the inevitable to pass,
Waiting as always for the fall
Of each new string He pulls
Oh, these songs amid the darkness!