6 June 2019 / Poetry Poetic Meditations on Eventide To dance upon the fields of innocence,And see the azure colored diamond trains Of noblest stars that hang upon the loftyNight's Expanse: this was our highest hope,Before we lost our golden wreathe of blindness.Hydrangeas dying, fading colors fleeing,And blending with the dust that twinkles 'crossThe beams of light, which pierce the shuttered window,Like fiery blades of some old Seraphim. And there we sit at tea, smoking cigarettes.One bullish man remarks upon the flowers,"How lovely, O dear hostess, yea how fine!For in the Orient these flowers grew,And doubtless came to rest upon your hearthIn lieu of any fairer company."Not knowing how to speak to such a statement,We sip our tea and shift uncomfortablyIn our seats. Not liking how things sat,The lady in attendance, besides the hostess,Drew our attention to the lovely spreadOf cakes and tarts which Hostess had preparedAnd artfully arranged upon a dish – That dish of lovely Tupperware – A fine thing!I saw our hist'ry in a flash of light:Coarse trays of stone which turned to wooden make,Then copper, gold, burnished bronze, and silver."Wake up! You look as if you've seen a Ghost!""Well yes", I said, "it could be labeled such,But, have you seen those drapes – I mean, truly --Have you observed the form or caked dustThat girds the roughly upholstered fabric lines?"Inquisitive, they espied out the drapes,And I again enjoyed my cup of tea. Our aforementioned bullish friend made query If any saw the game of yesternight,And I said, "No, but heard it made a stir."I've heard it told that's what one says, who lacking Knowledge seeks to take a part in things,Not that the game was altogether goodOr helpful, or even interesting at all. "I say, these drapes present the picturesqueness Of Mid-American farmhouse-cottage style!How quaint and tasteful your choices are, dear Hostess."A scream pierced through the canopy of talkAnd there I stood, not sure how came I byThe place where now I was, but sitting there,A-rocking back and forth upon the ground,Sat gentle Hostess, catatonically demure. She shivered with a frenzied chill and stared Ahead upon some sight unseen. A dreadful Sight did she present, as if asylums Had loosed their patients on us as a joke."Art thou now ready, gentlefolk to hear,To eat, devour the words of my own saying?"As she spoke she ceased her tortured movements,And fixed her eyes in vacant form uponSome distant story, unfolding only for her.Our bullish friend now seemed so lost for words,And Tupperware, for such I dubbed her then,Seemed absolutely taken out of turn. "Even amid the nonsense of your speech,A burning meaning shines for even me,Who recently did think, and live, and move as you."I nodded, sat and listened to her words,And she did weave a tapestry of woe."We see the meaningless and blind ourselvesUnto the beautiful, delightful partsOf life that make us hum with joy and brightness.Like Kronos ate his very flesh and blood,So eat we of the tree of our own lives,With scarce a care or thought considering.You focus on my drapes and on my food,But have you truly seen the drapes and seen the food?"The bullish man made ready to depart,For he was not accustomed to such talk,Especially against him and his ways.Good Tupperware thought her insane and also left."And you!" said she, now turning o'er to me."You think yourself observant, wise and true,But even now you cater to your 'wisdom'and 'listen' to my words with veil'd contempt."I felt my ire rise like fiery dartsThat pierced through my very blood and heart."Consider this, for still you sit and listen:You think that you shall never die or perish,Whence came you by this thought– for so you live?"I knew not what to say or how to make reply.The sun had pass'd into its home,And any flaming Seraphim had left us To wrap ourselves in welcome dark and blackness. At last I made attempt towards reply:"I live as if I never die, 'tis true,And thus I walk in foolishness, dear Hostess."She cackled long and loud like witches grim,And finally wheezed a word to chastise me:"I pointed out the only part of wisdomLurking deep within your web of lies,O guest, please try again towards reply!"And so I thought once more how I might speak,And thinking brought a thought up to my grasp."I live as if I never die because 'tis true:I shall not ever die or lose my form,But simply fade into another plane,A fading out and in within the veinOf silver glass – that's what some author saidAt least." "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."Then silence, stillness, palpable terror filled me.My memory fails me now but I remember The breaking sound of glass and hurled plates.Then silence once again like to a tomb.We sat upon the dirty kitchen floorWith feet cut up upon the shattered wares,Where food mixed in with blood, and God only knows,Surrounded us as ruins of dying worlds.Hydrangeas dying, fading colors fleeing,And blending with the dust that twinkles 'crossThe beams of light, which pierce the shuttered window,Like fiery blades of some old Seraphim. And there we sat amid the remnants of tea,Staring upon one another, barriers destroyed,Human interference damned to hell at last."Are you now ready to hear the saying of mine?",She, feverishly staring into my eyes,Could barely gasp her final damning sentence."All that you see can save your very life,But mostly it just hides from you the truth:You float upon Existence' Sea with pride,And safely ride the murky, flowing tide,You make sweet love unto that petty wife That you brought with you to my sacred séance – Not seeing meaning in her every touch,For how then could you sail in wanton pride? Fading, a passing summer fancy, you – But nevermind, you too shall wane and pass away."With that, I rose from off the pock-marked floor,Gathered my hat and pack of cigarettes,She – still sitting on the floor – moved not. You see, Lord, I knew not what she meant or spoke!How could I hope to understand or know?"Depart from me iniquitous and sad,For verily, I never knew of you."