I never feel terribly confident of my prose or poetry, simply because I have even less experience of it than I do of Philosophy, whether reading or writing it. I read very little, and write exponentially less. P;D If you like this, a miracle has occurred; bless you for your generosity, and possibly naivete! Enjoy! (I hope.)
"Can I go forward,when my heart is here?
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out."
Dull earth, turned back and back,
Centers to centers made real,
Virtual and Virtuous, now sensed and sensing,
Resonating with the music of the other,
And the Music of the Spheres.
Left behind, "...the wars of elements,
The wrecks of matter, The crush of worlds..."
Shall we then "...flourish in immortal youth..."?
Only to stand guard, last to leave
At the Last Trump, like Cato of Utica,
Sentinel upon the foot of the Mountain of Sins
Yet to be overcome?
Dull earth turned back, Let us fly as spirits
To the summit, the Earthly Paradise,
Which for Creatures of dull Earth
Must be a Virtual Paradise, a Phantasy, a Dream.
With my very center I would craft a dream
Like Dweomercraeft it moves and shines by the
Rays of light cast forth by our eyes
And with fantastic bodies we step forward,
Wade forth into a Sea of Stars
And find ourselves immersed in wonders,
From the plains to the Planes, we take
One step for Mortals, and a giant leap
Toward our promised birthright, Immortality.
Turn back the dull Earth, and turn back time;
Back to the days of my youth, back to the
Innocence which I now despair to have lost.
Immersed in dreams and my craft
Now I unmake myself and make myself anew
My youth misspent by others, now spent well
In love and laughter, in sighs and tears and dramas
Of my own making, and in your splendid and lovely company.
Love's labour's not lost, but merely misplaced,
Only to be found once more,
Cherished more for the loss and the finding.
Some would say that what
Cannot be lost is too easily gained,
But I have measured out my soul and
Paid the full price for these dreams;
I swear by the worth of my blood,
My sweat, my tears,
I am willing to pay the price for us both,
And thus be freshly new to your youth.
"Whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing for Immortality?"
This mortal life, but a sample of
Eternal suffering at the hands of Chance,
The poor and fickle servant of Fate.
Let us seize our own own fates, each of us,
And twine them together 'til one is
Inseparable from another, and from Love,
Until all the dull Earth has passed away.
Love the Dream, and Love the Dreamer,
And love the dreamer who dreams of love.