Infinity

Shards of iron sun into granite matter
shattered into heaven's crown, a halo
a constellation choir, a harp
for an angel's lyre.

You will seek her, the goddess... love...

No control,
the flow of destiny,
the river or white water
of which we are all subject.

Attitude: the hope of free thought, the hope of it!
The hope of eternity when all things must die,
to believe in infinity is to believe in god
to avoid the chasm.

You must face the chasm and accept it - thre is no infinity.
What of destiny, determinism?
Is free will to be hoped for?
Is god freewill?

The dark night watchman
The solemn priest, his eyes
of worry, worry of the truth.

A hanging man, he was a good husband.
He believed in his insignificance.
A weeping widow "he loved his children".

The night watchman becomes a woman,
she is disturbed and sad, the is alone, and knows that
she will forever be so.
She is pregnant - but with what?
Will the animals be her friends, or her devourers?

All experiences are transient
a change of flow, like passing
through a pane of fog,
a drape of emotion.

The sea is a wall.

Life is as transient as music.
We may think we can capture it and record it,
but the recording is a dead facsimile,
a shop dummy.

No authentic priest can be an aritst too, for to be an artist is to scream at the void.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.