Friday, June 18, 2010

On "The Storm"

To Jacqui [On "The Storm"] (09/01/80:)

  1.     [1]                         

You, who with stroke of genius can reveal

That spangle of existence 'neath the veil

And tangle of confusion which enfold

The human understanding of the Well

Of Life through generations from of old,

Would you with lead and canvass yet unfold

The secret that you see beyond "The Storm"

So wretched mortals may with love behold

Both truth and beauty in more lucid form?

Or does it lie beyond the visual norm

Of revelation that needs genius show

Why love is in itself both calm and storm:

And Life but luster in its afterglow . . .

Too strong to waive, too flimsy to pursue?


(II)            [2]                        

Through corridors of wicked circumstance

With cross I wandered and stole a glance

Of your sublime creation, and, in me,

The blessings of that momentary chance

As moment of condensed eternity

Burst forth like movement in a symphony

Aspiring to the highest notes transcend

Before it consummates the melody . . .

Perflext the least of what the notes portend,

Not heeding the beginning nor the end,

To inspiration did my cross transform!

Oh! Bliss from pain! Need I yet comprehend:

What magic did your work of art perform,

What pow'r bestowed in your "The Storm"?


If contemplation can perforce impart

An answer: 'tis the artist not the art

Who fills my being, and with keen insight

Hope subtly kindles in my aching heart.

True, unbeknownst, yet capture me quite

Like force of dawn comes to displace the night;

A force which proves with power absolute

The wrongs to right, vanquish with mean and might

The fear which doubts myself to sin impute –

The fatal weakness that can bring to naught

The strength, which is the mind's heritage.

If from "The Storm" respite vainly sought,

Then love reduced to futile escapades

Till lost in pain of selfdestructive rage!


(IV)            [4]                         

It is with thanks that I indulgence pray

Of you to take these words not with dismay;

Though ourselves strangers we both find

Each other, and forever we may be,

The fait accompli that you touched my mind

In ways unique and apprehensionblind

Ignites a flame of wild obsession bred

To brave the tide that fate and time entwined,

The flood to take on from the fountainhead

And not just drink of your canvassinlead;

Unworried on the wherefores, nor ask how

To paint a picture, you may deem proceed . . .

The Tide is you, the moment may be now!

This Storm in me is sin to disavow!

[* * *]

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