Category: Prose and Poetry

In case I’m in a non-fiction sort of mood. Although technically anything I write might be fiction.

In the Beginning, Part II

On By Swarn GillIn Humor, Prose and Poetry10 Comments

Voice of God whispers in Adam’s ear.

“Wake up Adam, wake up.  God has a surprise for you!”

Adam groggy from the divine anesthetic, “What?  What’s going on?”

“Well all those animals seemed to be rather interested in their own affairs, and quite frankly, with the exception of may be the…” consults stone tablets written by Adam…”the chimpanzee and the…er…dog,” God ponders for a moment wondering what God spelled backwards is,”really didn’t seem like a great helper worthy of the impeccable qualities imparted to you by your creator.” God gives an imaginary tip of the hat, “So here you are….yooooooouuuur helper!!!”  God had a little light shine down from above in a rather showmanshippy sort of way.

Adam is a bit stunned, and upon seeing the first naked person of the opposite sex, he learns a little bit about a previous dangly body part.  Fortunately, shame hasn’t entered into the picture.

“Name her Adam, name her as you did the animals!”

The newly created being seems to demonstrate a mixture of frustration, and fear.

“Um…okay…but er, can you tell me why my abdomen is hurting?”

“Oh that’s just a little leftover pain from the rib I took out of you.  Let me take care of that.”  God sends a warm glow of light towards Adam and after it passes into his abdomen, the pain is gone. “Do you like that effect? I’m working on how best to impress people with my awesome powers.”

“Yeah.  Impressive.  Listen before I name this helper over here.”  Points to helper, helper has an I’ll give you a piece of my mind look, “I’m a bit concerned that you’re taking body parts of mine to make new people.  Why didn’t you just create this person from the dirt like me?”

“Symbolism!”

“What?  What does that mean?!”

“I want you two to have a special connection.  A piece of you, to make her.”

“But why a rib?”

“Because you have lots!  Well 12 pairs.  It varies a bit.”

“But I think I’m having trouble breathing.  You might have nicked my diaphragm”

“Nope you’re fine.”

“How many more people are you going to make like this? I assume all my parts aren’t expendable.”

“Nope this is the only one I’m making from a body part.  She’s special. I wanted her to share your genetic code.  Symbolism!!”

“Yes, well I still don’t quite get that.  So anyway, how are we going to make more people?”

“You are going to love it, and so is she!  You see that bit down there that stood at attention like a worshipper obeying his Lord God?  Well you are going to put that thing inside of her?”

God points to the nether regions of the newly created being and a little light begins to glow like a little star.  The new being looks a bit stunned and frightened.

“Is there some sort of hole there?  I don’t really see anything.”

“Of course there is…it’s um…well…don’t worry, when the time comes you’ll figure it out.  Insert tab A into slot B.  Pretty straightforward.”

“And that act just makes more people like us?  Do they pop out from behind bushes or something?”

“No no, it’s much more fascinating than that.  See you have this fluid inside of you and when you put your bit there, into her bit there,” more starlight twinkling on the requisite body parts, “it’s going to feel great.  Then you are going to reach this amazing moment, say my name a lot, and in the height of ecstasy expel this fluid into her.  There are these little swimming things in your fluid you see, and they are going swim and find this egg in her, fertilize it, and about 9 lunar months later, you are going to have this tiny baby pop out.”

Newly created being looks horrified.

“Does she also reach the height of ecstasy at the same time, because that would be pretty awesome?!”

“Um…well no.  I mean she could, but really she’s quite complicated, and you know as long as your…er…fluid gets in there.  You get to have a baby! Or well she does technically.”

And so what is this baby thing?”

“Well it’s like you, but at a very early stage of development, so it has to learn and grow up into you…or…er…her over there.”

“So does this baby talk or anything?”

“Not at first. It learns to talk!”  Good looks quite impressed with himself.

“Okay, but it’s able to like go around the garden and feed itself though right?”

“Well no.  It can’t really walk at first.  Or grasp anything.  Can’t really see more than 3 inches in front of its face, and it will take a good month or two before its eyes can follow objects around. Oh also it can’t chew, owing to not having any teeth. It will be quite a few years before it can really fend for itself reliably.”

“That’s horrible! Well what I’m supposed do with it?!  How do I feed it!?”

“Well see those two lumpy bits on her chest?” God makes her nipples begin to twinkle.

“Yeah I quite like those.” Adam gives the newly created being a toothy grin.

“Well when the baby is born, they produce milk and she just gets the baby to latch on to the nipples and, pardon the expression, those babies can suck like a demon.”

Both Adam and the newly created being look at the breasts with a completely disgusted look on their face.

“Oh stop it you two…it’s a beautiful experience, just you wait.”

“Alright, so what we can make a baby any time I put my thing into her?”

“Um…sure.  Don’t worry about the details yet.”

“And so this thing, it like grows in some sort of a pouch or something?”

“Yeah…I guess. Sort of.” God points to the abdomen of the newly created being and makes an nice red glowy area. “You see it’s going to grow right around here and her belly is going to get bigger and bigger.  Inside her is something called a womb, where the baby develops.”

“And so it grows until what? It just sort pops out of her?”

“Nope…it just sluices out her, easy-peasy.  In the same place where you put your thing in to make it.  That’s efficiency!”

“So 9 months of gestation and several years of basic doing every little thing for this thing is more efficient than just popping new people out of the dirt?”

“Adam! It’s a miracle!”, rebukes God.

“Sorry Father.  Okay, well…this all sounds like a lot of responsibility.  Maybe we should get to know each other a bit better first.”

“Alright, alright, well listen, you need to name her.”

“Hmmm…well she’s made from me, and I’m a man.  But she’s got a womb.  So wombman?  No, I don’t really like the phonetics there.  How about woman?”

God rolls his eyes, “That’s the type of naming creativity usually attributed to me.  Okay, well I guess let’s go with it.  But I still think you are missing out on the whole symbolism part here, but in any case, now that you have woman, you may leave your father and unite with her as one.  That’s what I was getting at here.  Wish you were a little brighter, but I guess subtlety is learned.”

“Okay, well this all great Father, but does she talk, she really hasn’t said anything thus far.”

“Well I created her to be a helper, I didn’t think she needed to talk.  She just needs to do what you tell her to.”

Woman looks back at God incredulous.

“Don’t get me wrong Father, I appreciate the thought, but you’ve given me the ability to choose, I think she should have it too.”

“Are you sure? Because you know life is pretty confusing as it is?”

“I’m sure Father, and give her a voice too.”

“Okay, but listen as soon as I give her free will and a voice, I’m going to hit the road.  I know anger. I’ve been in some pretty good rages myself, and she looks like she’s about to burst.  I prefer to think of this garden as a peaceful place, so I’m going to shape some glaciers or something.  I’ll check back with you later.”

God creates a little ball of light that travels quickly towards woman and as soon as it hits her it envelops her body.  Then with fire in her eyes she looks at Adam and then over to God and starts walking over to God.

“Explain the rules to her Adam.  Byeeeee!” and quickly vanishes.

Woman has arrived.

In the Beginning. Part I.

On By Swarn GillIn Humor, Prose and Poetry34 Comments

“So, um…Lord?  God?  Sounds a bit formal.  But I mean you created me from dust and all, so dad doesn’t sound great either.  Father…er…hey thanks for putting me in this garden.  It’s gorgeous I have to say.  I mean I don’t know much about…well anything yet, but I imagine it has everything a guy could need.”

“Yeah don’t worry about that Adam you’re set up pretty good here.  This is basically paradise.  I’ve put the Tree of Life here, you will literally never die here and you can just enjoy it forever.  Oh and I also put the…” God speaks really low in a mumble, “…ledge here as well…ood…evil” mumble mumble, “…perish..”, speaks really fast, “Don’t touch it.  Okay and moving on.”

“Lord. God.  I…er, didn’t catch what you just said there.  What else did you put here.  It sort of fell apart after you told me about the Tree of Life.”

“The Tree of Good and, er, Evil.” God looks sideways with feigned innocence.

“The what?  Good and Evil?”

“Yeah, bit of a nasty tree really.  I know seems a bit incongruous with the whole everlasting life and paradise vibe, but it sort of contains wisdom, knowledge, sort of gives you a lot of my ability to learn from your mistakes and improve and get smarter over time so you’ll become more and more like me.  Listen, I don’t recommend it.  You eat the fruit and you’ll die.  Really moving on.”

“But!”

In the commanding voice of God, “MOVING ON!”

“Alright, alright.” Adam hangs his head down.

God shifts uncomfortably, “Sorry about that, but the truth is that we really have…or er…rather you have a lot of work to do.  Okay, confession time.  You know how I’m all-powerful and all-knowing yeah?  I mean I can literally make anything happen.  But, the thing is, I’m not exactly good at everything.  Does that make sense?”

“No, but I was literally just created, and I’m not allowed to eat from a certain tree.”

“Alright, alright, point taken.  Well let’s say you know a lot of stuff, but even knowing all that stuff it can be hard to convince somebody of your point of view.  Oh or, let’s say I know everything there is to know about carpentry, you know like I read all about it in a book, you know…book smart, but in general I’m just not very good at it.  Can’t build a table to save my life.  Fortunately I can just think it into existence and it happens, thus I appear to be a master carpenter, but if I actually had to do the work, the results would be terrible.”

Adam with all the confidence of a young child who wants his father to think he is smart replies, “I think I understand, especially if I knew what carpentry was!  Or a book!”

“Yeah, um…well one thing I’m very good at is creating.  I’ve created a lot of things on this planet, beasts of burden, all manner of wild animals, birds.  I’m pretty certain I made the insects too, it just doesn’t seem to have been overly intentional. Well anyway, here’s the thing Adam.  Your Lord and God, just isn’t very good at deciding what they should be called.  And if I’m completely honest, I kind of feel my time is better spent thinking about other things.  I mean my consciousness is pretty massive and can do a lot of important stuff.  Do you know what I’m getting at son?”

Adam smiles sweetly and shakes his head.

“Well Adam, you are going to have to name every living thing I created.”

Adam’s jaw drops. “Wait…Father.  This doesn’t make any sense.  You named me just fine!”

“Actually your name is just a bit of word play, it actually means ‘earth’ as I made you out of dirt.  You see? Not terribly inventive.”

“Wait my name means dirt!?”

“Well it also mean red-skin, for the color of your skin.  Words sort of have lots of meaning. Ambiguity is something you are going to LOVE!  Either way, you’ll admit that my names are far too logical and less than inspirational.  So anyway, here’s your etching tool,” God blinks his eyes in a fun and magical way, “and there is a pile of stone tablets to write on.  In case you want to make any notes.”

“Oh my, God, there are thousands of tablets there!”

“Yeah, well you know everything is provided for you.  And everybody needs a job. Purpose is important Adam.  I created this whole universe for you, so it seems only reasonable that you could do this for me.  Right?”  God grins unconvincingly.

“I don’t know anything about naming either!”

“Hey I’m not completely abandoning you, you don’t have to go and find all the creatures.  I’ll bring them before you.  Watch them behave a little bit and I have a feeling that your creativity will kick in and you’ll come up with a great name.  You’re my greatest creation after all.  I know you won’t let me down.  Consider yourself the first biologist!”

“Alright, enough with the pep talk Father. Let’s get to work.”

After several days…

“May fly, fruit fly, black fly, horse fly…”

“Why horse fly?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.  Tsetse fly, dragon fly…”

“What is a dragon?”

“No idea. Crane fly, sandfly, mosquito, midge”

Several more days…

“Oryx, lynx, ibex, fox, minx…”

“You seem to be using a lot of x’s there.”

“Yeah, I get on a streak, it flows.”

“But that doesn’t sound all too inspired.  I mean I could have done that.”

“The thought never occurred to me Father.  Pelican, Pigeon, Penguin, Puffin.”

Several more days…

“Weasel, beaver, otter…”

“Great pace Adam.  You’re knocking them down one every 10 seconds we’ve hit near 300,000 of these things, we should be done, in about a week or two.”

“Father, I’m running out of names.  I’m literally just trying to alternate vowel and consonant sounds to come up with names.  I just called something an el-eph-ant.  I’m lost at sea over here.”

A look of “Uh oh” washes over God’s face.

“What!?”

“Well as it turns out, I completely forgot about all the animals in the sea.  I’m think it might be a bit longer than week or two.”  God gives a sheepish grin, which he can now do since Adam already named one of the animals a sheep.

A couple of months go by (It is not clear that months had been defined for the lunar or solar calendar at this point, but one can be certain that for Adam it was a very, very, long 2 months).

“Well done Adam!”  God quickly reads through all the tablets and makes a mental note (God can do those sorts of things and remember it)

Adam asks in a beleaguered voice, “So what now father.  Do I get to wander the world and see these animals in their native habitats?”

“Er, no, you’ll be staying here. But you’ll get to hang out with the near 100 species that are in the garden!”

“One hundred?!  Well why did I bother naming all these animals I won’t even see?  I’m the only person around to even see ANY animal!”

“Calm down.  I’ve got great news for you, quite related to that point actually.  I’m going to make you a helper!”

“I just named like 8 million animals, and NOW you decide to bring me a helper!?”

“The stress is getting to you son.  Probably should have let you have a day of rest.  I did give myself one after all.  I might be omnipotent, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good nap.  Although I can assure you that creating the universe was much harder.  Anyway, yes in retrospect it would have been more useful to do this last task as a bigger team, but I assure you, you’ll forget all about that when you see her!”

“Her?”

“Quiet son, your Lord God is going to do a little surgery.”

God applies His divine anesthetic and Adam falls into a deep sleep.

Vices in Solitude

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry40 Comments

It’s that time again.  I can’t say for sure that, “that time” comes with any precise regularity.  But enough time goes by when I just know it’s time to reset the clock.  I only smoke when I drink, but I don’t drink much anymore.  Unless I need a smoke.  Nobody is around anyway, and who needs judging eyes, even when they’re from your family who really only want you to live a long life.  Of course they’re right, which is why I can say with absolute certainty that I’ve been mostly successful at ending my days of vice.  I can see the edge of the package there.  A hiding spot of sorts I guess.  Not really hidden well, but out of the way.  One of those kinds of spots. It’s not like she doesn’t know I still do it from time to time, as there is no hiding the smell of these things.  Hmmm…plenty left if my judgement of shaking sounds is any good.  Lots of natural light in the house, I might have a bit of spring weather here.  Yes, this is an activity best done alone.  I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The drink for the occasion? Well that might get more judgment, but on a day like today, with the sun shining and a nice mossy spring feeling in the air, it’s got to be tomato juice and vodka.  It is morning, and the tomato juice…well it sort of works as a light breakfast, just tricking your stomach into thinking it isn’t having vodka on an empty stomach.  Let’s see 3 good-sized cubes of ice, a tumbler.  I wonder why they call it a tumbler, I really don’t want my drink to tumble anywhere.

My pack, my drink, my lighter, and sun.  I would have survived quite well without the latter, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.  Not much ceremony here with the cigarette.  Some people like to make a big show of getting the cigarette out of the pack, but I think they are only trying to slow themselves down so they don’t smoke too much. The joy of smoking is in the smoking.  Anytime in between is not a good time.  And that’s a pretty good reason not to smoke.  Nevertheless, old habits die hard. It even feels strange as I hold it in my fingers, but all too familiar as I hold it in my mouth.  With the click of a lighter,  I can hear the faint crackle as paper and tobacco burn.  Alright now I’m going to need a moment.  You see every day is a fight of some sort or another.  Not smoking is just another one added to your every day. It gets lost in the background if you keep yourself busy.  But every once in a while, it feels good to lose.  Quite frankly I look forward to losing this fight.  It’s like being able to lower your defenses, because sometimes the shoulder, well it just needs a rest from raised fists.  Pardon me while I inhale deeply.

My lungs resist now, but it’s more like a difficult child who is crying because it doesn’t want to go sleep.  Which is ironic, because the only reason it’s crying is because it’s really sleepy.  That kind of resistance.  You tolerate the crankiness because you know it will be angelic peacefulness soon enough.  I really honestly feel like I can feel the nicotine enter my blood through my lungs and circulate from artery, to arteriole, to capillary.  It’s saying to every cell, “Hey! Remember me?”  And all the cells of course remember good old Nick.  He’s a great time, he never tells you what he’s been doing to Mr. Lung to get in and visit, and of course you don’t care, because your brain is in on the sting.  It sounds a bit dramatic but these moments come rarely and I insist on making the most of it.  So if the nicotine has conspired with parts of your body to con the lungs in an old-fashioned caper, I say it’s all in the spirit of good storytelling. Well a story I’m telling myself of course. I’m of the opinion, in all seriousness, that any body part is capable of betrayal given the right environment.  The gullibility of the brain is probably to blame.  No need to mend it if you can bend it.

Now with a few preliminary puffs out of the way, it is time for that first sip.  The top inch should be pretty cold by now.  To be honest with you, I should have taken that first sip first.  Smoking does tend to taint everything you ingest afterwards, but I’m too anxious for that first drag and I regret not sipping first every time.  I’ll admit this regret is mostly ritualistic at this point as well.  Anyway, I want to explain how to take a sip the right way, but I am afraid I won’t be up to the task.  That being said, I’m putting my best foot forward, by putting my cigarette down.

Stillness is the key here, and if you’re doing it right it doesn’t matter where you are.  You begin by taking the glass in your hand, feel the coolness of the surface against your fingers.  You must then bring the glass to your lips.  Not too fast so you appear greedy and sloppy.  Not too slow, because that disrespects the beverage.  It’s more like when you bring a woman in towards you for a kiss and you want to kiss her like you really mean it.  Like you want to kiss her out of the pure joy of kissing her, not because of what else it might lead to.  As the glass approaches your mouth, you want to let out a warm breath so that just a hint of condensation sits on the surface of the glass. It’s important that the drink knows that you are a living being, that you thirst, that you crave, but that you are also civilized.  You can hear the ice cubes with their soft clink on the sides of the glass, your lips part and then your top lip sinks into the top layer of the beverage while you tilt the glass ever so slightly.  It’s important that the rate of flow of the liquid is slow in order to taste each molecule, to let as much of that beverage know that it is welcome to continue its journey as it slides down your throat.  And if you manage to get the flow just right.  If you pay attention to each flavor – the bitterness of vodka, the silky smooth tang of the tomato juice, and the way your lip cools down as it touches the ice cubes floating in your drink, you will find that there is nothing else in the world but you, and the drink.  And in that moment, I can’t decide whether I’ve solved all my problems, or if they ever existed in the first place.  Either way, it’s peaceful.

At this point you are welcome to stay, but I think I’ve shared about as much of this morning as I can with you.  I know rinse and repeat seems a bit anticlimactic, but that’s all that is left.  But you can take my word for it, I will enjoy every moment.  And then, well I have a list of chores to get to and the day must officially start.  For now, all this is unofficial.  Cheers.

Of the Many and the One

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry, Science10 Comments

In late spring thaws or pouring rain,
The water finds its way from peak to base,
With gravity and a groove it is turned,
First one way and then another,
Splitting here or there as chance permits,
So many thrills, with rills, and spills,
Into braided streams and channels,
Until all the many choices become one.

And where that mighty mouth,
Dares a salty kiss on majestic sea,
It slows its approach out of respect,
And unloads grain upon grain,
Until a bed is made for them both,
And the river does tease with dendritic hands,
The ocean ebbs and flows with delight,
In brackish ecstasy they become one.

In winter bare does the tree invite,
A labyrinthine exercise for the eyes,
From small sprout it begins to climb,
Branch to branch, twig to twig,
Steadily, always going out on a limb,
Spreading high and wide, leaves unfurling,
All to catch those golden rays of sun,
The majestic sylvan purpose is one.

Darkened skies heavy with bloated drops,
An ominous base hovers over thirsty land,
Millions of electrons bully others away,
Full of potential an army charges out,
Their leader searches from something positive,
It sends one battalion here, one there,
A more covert operation you’ll never see,
And in a flash, power surges in finding the one.

And as I sat and pondered these things,
I looked ahead at the decisions before me,
And those that were far behind,
Would one different turn have changed me?
And what decision should I make next,
Not knowing where I might be sent?
Are all the many branches of possibility,
Just an illusion that lead to an outcome of one?

The Understudy

On By Swarn GillIn Love, Prose and Poetry6 Comments

He always liked to make people smile,
It was the way his daddy looked,
When he wasn’t smiling he was stressed,
Worried and wasn’t all there
And when he’d make his daddy laugh,
It all went away,
And so he tried to be funny all his days,
It became a craft and an art,
Something to fail at from time to time.

He always knew real beauty,
He liked to be around it,
Like wanting to be close to the fire,
On a chilly winter’s dark
The occasional dive,
As the smoke curls around the room,
But the romance was in his mind,
And love was in his eyes,
But never figured out how to make it work,
Not being mechanically inclined

He always had a gift for language,
He liked the way it moved and folded,
Slipping off the tongue,
Only to wonder if he should have held back,
And that was a way to move people,
But he never quite had the passion,
It wasn’t easy to express excitement,
When you’re too busy being amazed
If you can get him to be quiet,
He’d love to hear your voice

Scuttling along the sand,
He looks a bit odd
But I assure you he’s quite harmless,
It’s just an occasional tickle

Colors in the Air

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry4 Comments

You’d make a good bird
I’m not sure what kind
One that flies with confidence
Not flapping noisily
Panicky from place to place
You fly higher than most
Not the type to prey
Not to say you don’t get hungry
You think yourself fluffy
But you are feathered
Smooth and sleek design
Showing you have direction
Purpose

I wonder what bird you are
Something colorful to be sure
But not so small
That only binoculars will do
Companion sized
Something that looks formidable
Perched on your shoulder
Too striking to be menacing
Something tropical perhaps
Perhaps common in some far off place
But rare and breathtaking to me
And so I am left to wonder
What it might actually be like
To watch you take flight

I’m okay with pictures in a book
Some beauty feels peaceful
Just knowing it’s out there
Up there

Sometimes I do think I see you when I look up
And I can’t help but sigh long with a wide smile

Thoughts of Babylon

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry16 Comments

It moves in a sine wave
It’s sinewy and sinuous
There is a place of eternal equinox
The line bisects the sphere
Just as the setting and rising of the sun
Bisects hot day and tolerable night

It’s like in the movies,
Maybe a time lapse, or desert heat
You can watch it rise or sink

Only twelve hours to make that long arc
Quickly burning day, deep expansive dark
And there was the horizon and there was the sun
You knew when it started, you knew when it was done

North, because why not
The sun finds gentler journey
And the axis through that sine wave
Moves with the season, it is the reason
It’s just a latitude adjustment
The ebb and flow of dark and night

I wondered about the Arctic Circle
There are days when the descent
Must move so slowly

You just couldn’t stare at the sun that long
But keep an eye out, drink coffee, stay strong
And there was the horizon and there was the sun
For one moment, the sunrise and sunset are one

I go now to stand on shrinking ice
Along with my polar bear family
I will step on that pivot point
And there will I finally own time
Around the world by foot
Around the clock tonight

The sine wave becomes a straight line
A line that oscillates a revolution
But in the moment, no eye could detect

The sunrise and sunset would last for days
Far too long even for a lover’s gaze
And there was the horizon and there was the sun
It looks like it’s moving, but you’re being spun

My Ode to Winter

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry12 Comments

In silence you approach, slowly darkening days,
Autumn arrays of color fade to deathly brown,
Precious skies of blue are replaced by grays,
Sharp winds blow across frozen ground.

And then one day you bring all to standing still,
I watch as my breath, eager to show it’s alive,
Disappears hopelessly into air it can’t fill,
Icy touch on the shoulder of all that thrived.

And what more can we do who wait?
Where night comes early, but feels so late.
Hope for snow to settle on barren limbs?
A touch of white when all seems grim.
Snowy blanket covers the harvest’s reaping,
Lets us pretend the Earth is happily sleeping.

Each slippery step on landscape so bleak,
As we drudge through our lives week after week,
You take no pleasure as you tally the score,
We see what you’ve taken and you hunger for more,
And just when you drain our heat to burn our skin,
Though you love your endings, in the end you won’t win.

For when the sun hides for its longest hours,
We gather with friend and kin to warm with love,
With charitable hearts gloomy Death does cower,
Mocked by hopeful songs of the mourning dove.

New Year’s rejoicing as the sun climbs higher,
Dreams of future gains and not what we lack,
You snap and bite at us, even as you tire,
As snow melts into thawing soil, life bites back.

Two Lines

On By Swarn GillIn Prose and Poetry14 Comments

Two lines at a time,
That’s all I want to write.

The brilliance fades quickly,
Because I’ll be on to something else,
And those two lines,
They won’t make any sense.
But maybe they will again tomorrow,
I’ll remember what I wanted say,
And by the end of the week,
The month,
The year,
I’ll have written some poetry,
Something that will blow a soul away,
And you’d never tell,
That I didn’t just sit down and write it,
All in one gasping breath of inspiration,
The exaltation that moves me so much,
That I can only write two lines,
Without getting lost in the music,
Without getting thirsty,
Without needing sleep.

When Atlas has to set the world down,
There shall be a revelation in two lines.

Reason

On By Swarn GillIn Philosophy, Prose and Poetry17 Comments

I know that darkness won’t endure,
But sometimes it’s hard to see in the dark,
But I will not lose my reason,
My desire to understand the seasons,
Turning leaves reveal the truth,
Known to every pimpled youth,
There is no escaping that things change,
And so you can hold on
And squeeze the moment,
But it will eventually slip like sand,
And with time abrading your open fingers,
To make sure you learn lessons well,
To remind you, you’re avoiding the inevitable.

You can wallow in the quagmire of your beliefs,
You can even inspire with a clever tongue,
You can wipe clean all that science has found,
And it will come back and haunt you,
But humanity is no ghost,
It is curious and is happiest when it discovers,
Even though it risks its happiness,
Because somewhere in the maze of consciousness,
We know that without the risk there is no joy,
No success, no growth
We are not content to look through a pinhole,
While one eye looks at the dark, and the rest
Of our senses atrophy into putrid decay.

Each time that you hate and dehumanize,
You become less than you think you are,
Your victims more than you think they are.
And I will oppose you with heart, with teeth,
And you will fight on the battleground of reason,
Or risk endless cycles violence,
Ripping parents from children,
Casting yourself into an oblivion,
That you believe to be paradise,
All because you never knew,
How great a human you could become,
How so many pieces of existence,
Were waiting for you to know them.

And you will pay dearly for unwise choices,
And you will be forgiven,
Because the world has loss and pain,
But nobody really wants to destroy you but time,
And none of us have any say over that,
Make your meaning out of the indifferent universe,
And treat existence like a gift.
Because it is.