"To be breathed in by a divinity" *

Inspiration needs little to be kindled again like flame. But a combination of Wordsworth and seeing someone today when I did not expect him there and then seems to do the trick.

For the general population... Wordsworth is my favourite poet. And some of my favourite poems are the so-called "Lucy poems". And so, drawing a comparison, I realised that I had might have done something similar to the Lucy cycle with my own wannabe poetry. Only I do not speak of his death (partly because he is alive and well, and may he be so for many years to come), but of his eyes. Many may ask why. I don't know if you ever noticed, but some people's eyes just shine from within. As if there was an unquenchable light dwelling in their depths.

I have not that light. And so, by the principle of darkness loves and is consummed by light, I am drawn to his light. But enough introduction for one night.

            I saw a world in the twirling snow

I saw a world in the twirling snow, 

And lovingly I saw you there as well:

You were smiling and laughing soft and low, 

With your voice like the tinkling of a bell;

Your eyes shone as brightly as before, 

When tales I heard you tell on the seashore.

I saw you seldom since: my heart had cooled, 

And I finally looked you in the eyes, 

Those eyes where pity suddenly had pooled 

When I looked upon you in my surprise,

Trying to pierce the gloom that shame had wrought 

When I said things that I never had ought.

And there is always the selfsame regret 

Of never having spoken to you then, 

When my chances were shining brightest yet

Than with any son begotten of men. 

And yet it seems to me that there have passed  

Countless years and days since I saw you last.

You have no name and yet your name resounds 

From every hill and every drop of sky,

In every moment that our time surrounds 

With raindrops and twinkling hopes from on high:

Even the faded grass whispers thy name 

Though you and I will never be the same…

                                                                                         23 November 2010

*Quote belongs to M. H. Abrams.

When I die

         When I die you shall raise a marble cross

White as snow, with no fancy signs embossed

Save my sweet new name, never crowned with fame

In this lent sanctuary ringed with pain.

You shan’t grieve for me, but pass the weeping

Onto those who are already sleeping:

Let the dead mourn those who yet again died

When the dragon-jaws gaped opening wide.

Let nobody of this world see of me

Anything that I certainly won’t be –

Because I desire not to insist

Living on when I no longer exist.

24-26 May 2010

Letters

I've been having this desire lately to write letters. Real letters, of the kind you put in an envelope and go to the post with them to have them delivered. It's much more personal and warmer than emailing or text messaging. In a world with more people than ever, we feel more and more alone. People at 20,000 km away can be reached in a few seconds, given a good Internet connection and a working computer. Yet have they ever seemed farther away than now?

There is a tendency to lock one's self in a shell, and not come out of there. I never had any sympathy for that process. (And look who's being a hypocrite.)

But back to letters. I want to write a letter to my spiritual father. And to my godmother, who I have not seen since August, I guess? And we live three minutes away from one another (back home, anyway...). I don't know what I would tell them, though. I simply know I want an Eucharist of words, to merge into the other, like in the ecfonis at the Divine Liturgy: "Şi ne dă nouă, cu o gură şi cu o inimă a slăvi şi a cânta preacinstitul şi de mare cuviinţă numele Tău..." I'd like that very much - people becoming one in spirit and in heart. A oneness of multitude, instead of a multitude of solitudes.

The Fall

         Resentful is the world East of the Sea 

Hope is lost, the choice long over.

The sun has fallen and it has died swiftly

And the lights of the world are not quite sober.

Who will restore the peace of my soul?

For now all is gone, the mist has taken hold,

The ships are all adrift: no longer will I look

Over the great ocean to a light of gold.

The stars are veiled and faith has sunken,

I have taken the road and none will follow.

The deeps of the sea cover the land, my home.

Sea birds cry in the sky: my mind is hollow…

                                                                                              2 August 2007, 23-24 May 2010