Pythonism

code and the oracular

Burning Rope

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Activity gives way to rest… focus to daydreaming… solitude to company

I want to seclude myself and write until this batch of Karma is lifted and closure comes. Do you think I care when they say “he is a recluse”?

I want to unweave the tangles, lay to rest the demons, express what was bottled up, forget what can’t be changed.

There are sweet voices people from an unknown supposedly dark continent, which is really so filled with light that it puts us to shame. These voices that come are spirit friends, but even to them I often say “I wish to be alone”.

Joe has walked these lands, and is tormented by how much he saw, and how little we in this part of the world know about it. We like to draw a curtain across it, to preserve our comfort, when really it is this ease and plenty that is poisoning us.

Ahh fuck all this liberalism, fuck all the bleeding heart stuff. I’ve bled so long it’s completely exhausted me. There… now I am a rich, lazy sybarite too. I want to watch only Teletubbies to palliate and keep me asleep. I want to walk in manicured gardens where there is no litter and there are no tramps on benches. My self-seeking, self-serving obsession with my own emotional state and my own growth is wasting my potential. My introversion is merely navel gazing, my solitude is anti-social, anti-life even.

A church of England Vicar comes to me in my waking dream. “You are right about this” he says. Ahh but there’s a paradox, even my desire to change comes from myself, and to pursue change I need to be self-serving. So selfishness is impossible to avoid. Don’t I help others? I say to the presence in the cassock. Haven’t I helped Ian? Bill? Joe? Martin? Mum? Anne-Marie?

I put on Genesis – the band not the book, in some kind of assertion of my principles. The cassock stalks off. While listening to the lyrics tears come and I muse. These tears are salty but not of sadness, more an affirmation that I can be moved by something higher after all. Ian thought I was depressed when I cried with him, but I corrected him. Not tears of joy either, but a cleansing of something, a surrender to the inevitability of the heart.

++

Burning Rope – Genesis

The warming sun, the cooling rain,
The snowflake drifting on the breath of the breeze,
The lightning bolt that frees the sky for you
Yet only eagles seem to pass on through.
The words of love, the cries of hate,
And the man in the moon who seduced you
Then finally loosed you.

You climbed upon a burning rope to escape the mob below,
But you had put the flaming out so that others could no follow,
To be out of the bounds and the barks of those who do not wish you well.

You must blaze a trail of your own, unknown, alone,
But keep in mind
Don’t live today for tomorrow like you were immortal.
The only survivors on this world of ours are
The warming sun, the cooling rain,
The snowflake drifting on the breath of the breeze,
The lightning bolt that frees the sky for you
Yet only eagles seem to pass on through.
The words of love, the cries of hate,
And the man in the moon who seduced you
Then finally loosed you.

You’re old and disillusioned now as you realise at last,
That all all you have accomplished here will have soon all turned to
dust.
You dream of a future after life, well that’s as maybe, I don’t know.
But you can’t take what you left behind, you’re all alone.
So keep in mind
Don’t live today for tomorrow like you were immortal.
The only survivors on this world of ours are
The warming sun, the cooling rain,
The snowflake drifting on the breath of the breeze,
The lightning bolt that frees the sky for you
Yet only eagles seem to pass on through.
The words of love, the cries of hate,
And the man in the moon…

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Written by Luke Dunn

March 8, 2015 at 11:22 am

Posted in Creative Writing

One Response

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  1. Luke, this is so excellent. You seem to find the words to express what so many feel but don’t recognize until we read it from you.

    Mary

    March 8, 2015 at 8:02 pm


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