Categories
Philosophy

Poetry

Something has been lost…

Poetry is, of course, the original form of a language, any language, and in the simple articulation of a spoken word approximates to that ancient world in which every sound and every meaning was imbued with magic and mystery or the miraculous unknowing of an infant’s innocent mind as humanity itself that sees and hears or feels the infinite in every cloud or star and flowering love for all of life and living being. When we sacrificed rhythm for functionality, a light was lost – not unlike a fallen Angel spiralling into darkness; Paradise lost, indeed.

8 replies on “Poetry”

Thanks again.

Life is rough everywhere and everywhen. We just keep going. It is what we do, what life does.

I have no plans… words write themselves, quite naturally it seems.
– Graeme

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