The Half-Finished heaven

(c) Tomas Transtromer

Despondency breaks off its course.
Anguish breaks off its course.
The vulture breaks off its flight.

The eager light streams out,
even the ghosts take a draught.

And our paintings see daylight,
our red beasts of the ice-age studios.

Everything begins to look around.
We walk in the sun in hundreds.

Each man is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.

The endless ground under us.

The water is shining among the trees.

The lake is a window into the earth.

Reflection-

My personal take when I first read this poem to me was; I think in one aspect it serves to tell us that despondency is like water; where it fills and feels at home within the vessel that holds it so closely guarded. Perhaps in part because despondency may well be for some of us, the last of our feelings we can still manage to feel within the eye of a storm we alone have become and out of an earnest love, we refuse to share it.

Conception

Love should make us absent-minded

Of the world at large while we steep

Into a new climatic clustering of us

When we collide like a comet and star

Giving birth to our universe… of bliss

Poet of the Light © 2018

 

 

Uncompleted

 

Oh, dearest unfound summit

That does call to me, silently

Here- snow has begun to fall

With an accompanying sunset

Only to rise and search for rest

Beyond yet another of horizons

As such is found in a lover’s heart

The fire merely fades into ember

Slow and yet ever changing, burns

Ever present, as is this moment

The chill is most obvious of all

Like ghostly whispers on my skin

Erupting into many of thoughts

I’m truly unsure- this will find you

But here- in this moment I write

From the purest of my own heart

Where even the cruel world itself

Has never touched, nor harmed

Though the outer layers are scarred

No changed of what remains truth

In each beat still bequeathed me

They serve as my companions

To search by a divine purpose

That one missed person- to love

That time may have unwittingly

Held back from my own hands

From my most eager fingertips

I appropriately write with now

Know in each faithful beat left

I’m of the mindset that you live

Within my universe but unseen

Like beauty in a flower or painting

Hidden like an unknown treasure

Just outside my fringes of grasp

And I feel your presence nightly

There- in those illustrious dreams

Where your unique voice speaks

In a language known exclusively

To only me, my body, and my soul

That joyfully breaks tears loose

And somehow, I can understand

Everything your meant to bring

To all- I am, and to all I’ll ever be

I can sense queerly but peacefully

As if, you’re being sent to bring

To deliver a full lifetime of pure love

Within as little as one…complete kiss

Poet of the Light © 2018

 

 

 

Graininess

 

There come’s times

For glimpses when I find

In the glare of a mirror

A lost smile, reddish blonde hair

Looking back at me queerly

Oh, the things I would’ve given

To have been on the other side

Of that reflective glaze

To have seen my life- beforehand

Before it lived me in time

Maybe I could’ve saved- you?

Maybe your heart would be scar-less?

Maybe you’d still be here today?

Maybe I would’ve changed- everything?

Maybe I would’ve stopped time?

Maybe I would’ve prevented mistakes?

Maybe- I’m just too desperate;

Now, in my heart- far too late?

Why do I visit- me in this way?

Has the child I was, come for healing?

Am I missing messages, he’s o.k.?

Or simply letting go of that pain?

Still- I love who you’ll always be- to me

Oh, how I wish we could sit and visit

In far more than random glimpses

I miss that childish innocents and dreams

That times of yesterdays…stole away

 

Poet of the Light © 2018

 

 

 

Real-eyes

 

I’ll never be any of what you need

Until it is only me…that you desire.

Poet of the Light © 2018