Wandering Thought # 89

A summary reading of the history of myths teaches us how religious even the most atheist of us remains; how the religious lives on in us, in our imagination, ideas, impulses, emotions, motives, narratives of life, etc., irrespectively of what our rational mind believes. We remain worshipers in a temple we no longer believe in its existence. We remain idolators of a power in which we ceased to believe, at the very thought of which we cannot hold our laughter, our cynicism — and what is cynicism if not the pain of a wound? We may know a lot more, we moderns, but we feel a lot less and less profoundly, and the world of our feeling, intuition, and imagination has shrunk in proportion to the horizons which our minds have widened. We know no reverence; we are deeply irreverent. The sacred has been expunged from our rational world, and that is a direct correlation with the way we are handling our planet and ourselves.

A Prayer

Like salt crystals in your hair
Breathing the vastness of the ocean,
Like snowflakes upon your cheeks
Melting to a teary, pure passion,
Like eyes of jasmine in your eyes
Bathing in scent divine all colours,
Like the moon upon your lips
Weaving a wall of light in eyes,
Like autumn’s red rivers from your palms
Streaming fire leaves in evening skies,
Like spirals of smoke from your mouth
Censing to silence a world unbound —
Your love, madness weaved within madness,
Your love, poetry’s red sun reciting from heights,
Your love, a listening eye piercing hearts to life,
Your love, an unequivocal desire to drown, to rise,
Your love, a deep forest where a single leaf falls,
Your love, a lake reflecting the deep face of heart.