|
yo mama persephone
|
I had a dream that I was riding the bus to school, and some lady, with red sparkles all over her outfit was out on the street, still campaigning for Bush. The people behind me commented on how annoying she was, and said she goes around at parties ranting about an "isle in a sea of solitude and isolation"
Life is an isle in a sea of solitude and isolation.
Life is an isle whose stones are hopes, whose trees are dreams, whose flowers are loneliness, whose springs are thirst
- in the midst of a sea of solitude and isolation.
Your life, my brother, is an isle cut off from all other isles and climes. However often you set sail in ships and boats for other strands, however many fleets and armadas call at your shores, you, you are the isle, alone in its plains, solitary in its joys, distant in its yearnings, its mysteries and hidden secrets unknown.
I saw you, my brother, seated upon a hill of gold, rejoicing in your wealth, unrivaled in your riches, in every handful of nuggets finding a hidden thread tying men's thoughts to yours, binding their desires to yours. I saw you become a great conqueror, dispatching victorious legions to level mighty fortresses, taking possession of impregnable strongholds.
Yet, when I looked at you again, beyond the walls of your treasures, I saw a heart throbbing in isolation, thirsting unto death in a cage fashioned from gold and jewels but empty of water.
I saw you, my brother, seated upon a throne of glory. Around you stood men singing songs to your name, chanting your praises, recounting your bestowals, looking toward you as though you were a prophet whose great spirit would exalt their spirits as they circled about it among the stars and planets. You looked down at them, your face exultant, strong, masterful as though you were the spirit and they were the body.
But when I looked again, I saw a soul in its solitude standing beside your throne, in torment in its exile and choking in its desolation. Then I saw it stretch out its hand in all directions as though it were beseeching the aid of unseen forms. I saw it look above the heads of the people toward some distant place, toward a place empty of everything save solitude and isolation.
I saw you, my brother, smitten with the love of a beautiful woman. I saw you anoint the crown of her head with the liquid essence of your heart, fill her palms with kisses. As she looked at you, affection shone in her eyes, and her lips held the sweetness of motherhood. I said in my heart, 'Love has destroyed this man's solitude and wiped away his isolation. He is once again linked to that universal and all-embracing spirit, to that spirit that draws itself by love what was cut off from it by emptiness and oblivion.'
But when I looked at you again, I saw that your infatuated heart enfolded a solitary heart that desired to anoint the woman's head with its secrets and could not. Beyond your soul melting with love, I saw another soul, lonely. It was like a mist that desired to be transformed into teardrops in your beloved's hands but could not.
*****
Your life, my brother, is a lonely dwelling, far from the dwellings of living things.
Your spiritual life is a dwelling far from the paths of those appearances and phenomena that men call by your name. If this dwelling is dark, you will not be able to illumine it with your relative's lamp. If it is empty, you will not be able to fill it with the good things of your neighbor. If it stands in a desert, you will not be able to move it to a garden planted by another. If it is raised upon a mountain peak, you will not be able to bring it down to a valley trodden by the feet of another.
The life of the soul, my brother, is surrounded by solitude and isolation. Were it not for this solitude and isolation, you would not be you, and I would not be me. Were it not for this solitude and isolation, I would imagine that I was speaking when I heard your voice, and when I saw your face, I would imagine myself looking into a mirror.
-Kahlil Gibran, from 'The Storm'
|
001210
|
