My father handed me Paul Bowles' A Hundred Camels in the Courtyard and in it I came across a poem titled, God, the Abyss & Angels, And Time, the Passage of Forming, written by Charles W. Taylor. There weren't any marks on the meticulously folded white paper, so I wondered whether or not it's existence was important. Did my father leave this poem as a message? An input into something only I could figure out for myself? If that was in fact his intention, all I can say is that I am honestly perplexed. The poem was complex of course-I mean, they always are, aren't they? Poems are meant to inspire, to create, to change perspective, to stir emotion--but in this case, this poem simply caught me off guard. I felt numb in a sense; I sat at my desk with both hands tapping my chin, thinking out loud.
"What does this even mean?" I whispered-the words kissed my palms. I picked up the piece of paper again, my eyes scraping the surface in a sort of desperate manner. I mouthed the first sentence, "The great potent and powerful light/ lighter than darkness, darker than light-" and then continued to sit quietly. I tried to figure out the undertone--i tried to scrutinize the meaning; yet, I felt emotionless at best by this point.
My friend was across from me--we were both sitting on the cool tiled floor in my room. The music was playing a song that I had already heard a thousand times--it was either the repetition or the pale bluish light above the mountains that minimized the sound and altered the words into an entangled blur, just noise at best. I saw the white paper glaring at me from underneath its covers and suddenly I found myself holding it in my own clasp.
"Can you read this poem? I can't figure out what it's trying to say and I was hoping you could give me your insight." My question was rather submissive, I hoped my tone would imply some sort of call for help.
"Sure," she started, "I mean, I'm not the best at understanding poetry, but I'll let you know what I think." I handed her the paper, open, so that she could first examine its stanzas- which were quite equal in their size-and waited patiently for her eyes to return back to mine.
"I think it's about how God has sent us, the angels, to this earth and we all have some sort of amazing thing to do or whatever--but," there was a sudden halt in her speech that compelled me even more, "but time has its limitations. I don't know dude--I don't know!"
But now I knew something--this poem wasn't for me to interpret; rather, it was for me to learn from someone else's perspective. And I did learn something-- it opened my eyes to realize that we don't have as much time as we'd probably like, so we might as well do what we want sooner than later. Though our life is the longest thing that we will experience, it is still quite short. So, here I am, starting a blog. A simple blog perhaps-- maybe it will become more complex in the future- you never can tell. But, regardless, I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you want to be doing something, do it, do it now. Go. GOooooooOOoOOooo!
"What does this even mean?" I whispered-the words kissed my palms. I picked up the piece of paper again, my eyes scraping the surface in a sort of desperate manner. I mouthed the first sentence, "The great potent and powerful light/ lighter than darkness, darker than light-" and then continued to sit quietly. I tried to figure out the undertone--i tried to scrutinize the meaning; yet, I felt emotionless at best by this point.
My friend was across from me--we were both sitting on the cool tiled floor in my room. The music was playing a song that I had already heard a thousand times--it was either the repetition or the pale bluish light above the mountains that minimized the sound and altered the words into an entangled blur, just noise at best. I saw the white paper glaring at me from underneath its covers and suddenly I found myself holding it in my own clasp.
"Can you read this poem? I can't figure out what it's trying to say and I was hoping you could give me your insight." My question was rather submissive, I hoped my tone would imply some sort of call for help.
"Sure," she started, "I mean, I'm not the best at understanding poetry, but I'll let you know what I think." I handed her the paper, open, so that she could first examine its stanzas- which were quite equal in their size-and waited patiently for her eyes to return back to mine.
"I think it's about how God has sent us, the angels, to this earth and we all have some sort of amazing thing to do or whatever--but," there was a sudden halt in her speech that compelled me even more, "but time has its limitations. I don't know dude--I don't know!"
But now I knew something--this poem wasn't for me to interpret; rather, it was for me to learn from someone else's perspective. And I did learn something-- it opened my eyes to realize that we don't have as much time as we'd probably like, so we might as well do what we want sooner than later. Though our life is the longest thing that we will experience, it is still quite short. So, here I am, starting a blog. A simple blog perhaps-- maybe it will become more complex in the future- you never can tell. But, regardless, I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you want to be doing something, do it, do it now. Go. GOooooooOOoOOooo!