The Entropy of The Human Soul - Part I

Part I. The Dénouement

Beginnings are so gurgling, giggling new
And I’ve had one or two
But when the time comes to end
I find that it, I cannot do

And what will it take
To find my heart and mind awake
To make more (time) than I spend
And bring this entropy to brake?

Directionless I fear
I will not find my “Here!”
That special place to wend
And weave my way to in my end

I wander in my state
While my mind and soul stagnate
My heart a supernova
Yet this red dwarf hesitates

Endings are so flickering, whimpering slow
I have a lot to show
But nothing new to add
to fight the creeping veil of woe

The Wreck

The waves of the sea flow unknowingly

Where graceful ships once sailed

Where swimming backs glistened in setting sun

Where dolphins and turtles swam

            And still the waves come.

The waves have no memories

Not like the land and the sea-floor

Memories can’t be written in the waves -

Like they are in the rock -

Or strewn across the water

Like they are in the sandy bed of the ocean

            And still the waves come.

The ocean keeps her secrets below the surface

Men get caught up in their reflections

While beneath lies something greater

In the shallows or the depths

More mysteries are hidden

Than the ever-undulating surface tells

            And still the waves come.

Near the white sand shallows
Of a palm speckled beach

Lies a secret there for any to see

Anyone who looks deeper

And has an aluminum lung

            And still the waves come.

Past a carpet of timid garden eels

And schools of shimmering jacks

And flashing barracuda

Is the waves’ hulking secret

Weighed down by bright orange fans of coral

And the black, yellow and green of feather stars

It is the wreck

            And still the waves come.

What was once a ship, now a secret garden

Flowing soft corals and multicoloured hard corals

Darting gobies and ponderous groupers

Fish of every colour on a painter’s pallet

Grazing turtles

And slowly patrolling sharks

Tired out from a night’s hunting.

And still the waves come.

This secret garden

This Atlantis beneath forgetful waves

Is hardly touched by man and rarely seen

An oasis in the underwater desert

            And still the waves come.

But if you go where the waves can’t remember

And where the storms have long passed

Where the turtles and the white-tips roam

You will see a slice of Eden

Buried from man forever

Beneath waves with no memory

            And still they come. 

Ne Me Quitte Pas

I was walking through a blasted grove

Of figs and berries burnt to ash

This land once full of green and growth

Now brought that memory down to crash.

And in that land of blackened pillars

That seemed a Hades temple cold

I saw a flash of white above me

Too bright for prematurely old

Eyes that squint against the gleaming

Inside a world that has gone grey

Oft miss a beacon’s guiding

When from the path their feet do stray.

And here despite my squinting wonder

I saw alight upon a tree

A dove as bright as morning’s splendour

And brighter still than memories.

And there I froze awake in awe

To see so near such beauty live.

Why his pause and hesitation

Where life so long had ceased to give

Its hope and splendour at its being

It seems now just a heavy weight

But yet that bird came down alighting

As if defying seems of fate.

And here he stays nearby beside me

Though he seems so out of place

He should for every ’visioned reason

Take flight from this our burning race

Perhaps because he came to meet me

In this unholy blasted waste

He may remain right here beside me

To guide me to a better place.

(Ne me quitte pas)

You’re all the hope that I could find.

(Ne me quitte pas)

Without you I’ll just wander blind.

Shadows Lit and Fled

The shadows lit and fled within the cave-

The hole of past iniquities piled high

And packed closer than stacked Parisian ’combs

Of bones on bones; mixed neighbours friends and foes

Till numbers disappear with all the names.

Yet when the crack of earthquake, pain and trial

Broke through the granite roof of strong facades

And split the cave in two down to the roots

The sunlight shone on bones in milling piles

Where darkness once held uncontested sway.

And in those dry and dusty bones within

That cold Platonic cave new life begins

To spark a fire in marrow stiff and old.

Life from death; a life renewed as phoenix

Wings and lasting beneath the phoenix star.

For now a valley is where once a cave

Held its crowded prisoners beneath dark,

Heavy earth and rock to dry out and wait

For what they did not know. These bones they have

Memories but no knowledge and hoping

Not much for futures, they forgot the hopes

In pasts. Before the end they grew as they

Now appear: cynical and hard and lone.

They saw only I’s and me’s and not we’s

But each a king, each a queen in their own

Reckoning, till parched and lost they became

All indistinguishable pale, dry bones.

The names and titles and wealth and everything

They once were and thought and fought over was

Forgotten; nameless heaps in an arid

Valley. There they should remain, forever,

A hidden mystery of death and woe.

Yet despite everything that lives and seems

And all that had ever lived a whisper,

A voice, a word arose beneath the sun

To light the still burning fire in these bones.

What Silences Say

This poem can be read in several ways. It explores the theme of silence, among others. The brackets can be read in many ways: emphasizing the words within, as if the words have been removed, with no audible difference, etc. Each way of reading the brackets alters the meaning and sense of the line but keeps the main theme/message whole.


Enjoy,

- F. L.

Are you listening?

-Listening to what the silences say;

The (gaps) between words

And (spaces) between glances

Between (the seen and) the heard

Between (pauses and) second chances

Between what is and what may

Are you listening?

It’s in the flutter of autumn leaves

It’s in the floating winter’s flakes

It’s in the patter of distant spring

It’s in the summer and in the wake

I’ve been listening-

I’ve been listening for (all) my life

To authority’s (steady) voices

To the rambling of my mind

To the plethora of choices

And through (the wastings of) my time...

And the hollow (music) rife

With silences

I’ve been listening

In autumn’s floating leaves

In winter’s fluttering flakes

In spring’s distant patter

In summer’s shadowed wake

Listening

To what the silences forgot;

To past (and present) tied

By ponderous (muted) string

To noise and shouts belied

As another (dumbshow) thing

(The sounds) signified as rot

Are you listening?

To decaying

Pale leaves mouldering

White flakes congealing

Black drops pattering

Red sky mummifying

Are you listening now?

Between

And in-between

The silences

There is much to hear.