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THINGS FALL APART: EPILOGUE

In youth life was possessed without concern to its flight. Life now flutters by so fast and seems to leave too soon, like sunlight through the wind-spinner. Life clings because it sees its flight. When life feels to be fleeting, it clings stronger. So tightly does it wrap about me and swim under my skin that I feel the vessel of my body to be in a frenzy. I have had long ago my last grieving. Our entire life is a youthfulness that goes unrecognised

Things fall apart on the way to things coming together. Allow things to fall apart. Allow things to break away. Allow things to break apart. To allow things to come together. We have not learned until our pains and joys are united. There is music of winter and there is music of summer. Never, as the waters that flow the rivers are not the same waters in each season, are we neither in the same person in ourselves. We’re always rediscovering ourselves all over again. New music is within us for new seasons. One for life in the early dark, indoors, and bitter cold, and one for days of sun, outdoors, and warmth. No one has the same life in winter and summer. As the darkened hills and night sky promise the rosey crest of shining morning, we are two states that give up to the other.

We win as we appear to lose. We lose as we appear to win. We sail life’s tempestuous waves O success! A mirage! O mirage! A success! Loss and gain entwined, life gives as it takes away, tried and tired the journey, man finds a way in all that is to be. Time brings all things in to place. We seem to wander to ourselves, but the axis turns around us, not we the axis. In the end we were heading in a focused direction the whole time.

How I would love to go back, knowing what was all to be. The past in retrospect seems better. When not in its present strife and the present day of woe compared. It is for these high souvenirs that we are so fond to remember that we live the day in aim of, so tomorrow we may smile as we think gladly of our yesterday.

I know truly that nought would have turned out well had life turned by any other clock, not earlier would the victory come, nor could it have come later with such stars in their perfect place, but all that occurred was the only way and best of all. And I wish I could repeat it a second time. If I were to go back and live it all again, I would do no different but one thing, that now I know what joy was all to come I would repeat the course without a day of sorrow but gladness for it all, for all that pained led to pleasure, and for all my happiness now, I am thankful for all that past. So all sad days are like some fruit that when the outer skin is bitten, first tastes sour, but then sweeter tastes within.

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THINGS FALL APART: ADVENTURE

THINGS FALL APART

ADVENTURE

This beautiful wanderer. Out to the unknown experience yet to discover. I was restless and fuelled for the future. Still full of hopes and dreams. Ready for unexpected people and opportunities; everything was a spring sapling waiting for its summer; a buried seed in the desert eager for storm clouds. The wild open road, dust at my feet, wind in my face, the open wild road where we wander. Ever new fields about me, ever new skies above me, never stopping, always with myself and my wild-wheeled machines that help me wander. Freedom of the road chasing clouds under the sun. I cannot live unless in the open air. Independence is my ritual. Clubs, societies, friendship circles are, to me, life once more in the womb. I need strangers and passing winds, new faces, new streets, to be underneath new skies. I must awake a foreigner, I must awake to strangers. I must always be to the day as new as the sun. My limbs were glowing, radiant with energy, life-eager for fulfilment, to again and again plunge with passion in to life, with instinct of instinct. So fired and fuelled for the future that, in me, the Earth has a second sun.

A new set adventure to rise above waters, to reach new surfaces, new goals, new frontiers.I kick this spinning globe and trade the earth under my heel. To live independently is to take life and the whole world upon my shoulders, and bear it. To live independently is to put in my strength and to live. And the only space large enough and which has the capacity for my spirit is life and the entire world.

Gradually, I sink in to the unknown. A new world surrounds me for which I yet have no navigation. Mist and high walls rise beside me and I travel this uncertain road. Ahead a few steps, my past dissolving in to nothing. O adventure and adventurers ! who see themselves as an adventure, and not a destination to arrive. I travelled my hour on dancing joy, pregnant with expectation for the future, full of spirit, fire, passion, now, with all the world to go, and joy to spend. Ready to approach people with excitement, with ideas that would add more bizarre antidote to this mad city, mad coloured, mad hopes, mad dreams, to shake these dormant lives.

That wave of new beginnings, the scent of the horizon, that glow of the new birth of adventure. My spirit chills and burns with the sun. I already feel to be setting out, like on some boat on a heat-misted river, unknown of direction and navigation but wild-hearted and fired of blood. I do this now. And all that I could or should have done in my Spring age, as I step in now toward my Summer years, at last, for all the spring time that has past. I feared not what I undertook: more I wanted. Motivated. Blood pumped strong, ready and propelled, ready and aflame, for all my past and future yet to be. Not ever knowing when fulfilled but full with faith and filled with will. I resisted not that I was called, lured to do some private thing before all the public world.

The traveller’s road never ends. I walk on comet trails across the night sky, kicking up dust and stars on night’s black helmet. Travelling under glowing heaven above me as some stained impressionistic watercolour, some purple silk that leaked from the black tapestry, a satin scarf that waves in the humid wind, left entangled on the speckled net, drifting in some vapid expanse of unknowable landscape now and forever ago.

#poem #poetry #prosepoetry #literature #jrba #published #unpublisehd #unpublished

(James Roy Blair Anderson)

#SoundCloud #music #James Roy Blair Anderson #JRBA

Things Fall Apart

Things fall apart on the way to things coming together. Allow things to fall apart. Allow things to break away. Allow things to break apart. To allow things to come together. We have not learned until our pains and joys are united. There is music of winter and there is music of summer. Never, as the waters that flow the rivers are not the same waters in each season, are we neither in the same person in ourselves. We’re always rediscovering ourselves all over again. New music is within us for new seasons. One for life in the early dark, indoors, and bitter cold, and one for days of sun, outdoors, and warmth. No one has the same life in winter and summer. As the darkened hills and night sky promise the rosey crest of shining morning, we are two states that give up to the other.

We win as we appear to lose. We lose as we appear to win. We sail life’s tempestuous waves O success! A mirage! O mirage! A success! Loss and gain entwined, life gives as it takes away, tried and tired the journey, man finds a way in all that is to be. Time brings all things in to place. We seem to wander to ourselves, but the axis turns around us, not we the axis. In the end we were heading in a focused direction the whole time.

How I would love to go back, knowing what was all to be. The past in retrospect seems better. When not in its present strife and the present day of woe compared. It is for these high souvenirs that we are so fond to remember that we live the day in aim of, so tomorrow we may smile as we think gladly of our yesterday.

I know truly that nought would have turned out well had life turned by any other clock, not earlier would the victory come, nor could it have come later with such stars in their perfect place, but all that occurred was the only way and best of all. And I wish I could repeat it a second time. If I were to go back and live it all again, I would do no different but one thing, that now I know what joy was all to come I would repeat the course without a day of sorrow but gladness for it all, for all that pained led to pleasure, and for all my happiness now, I am thankful for all that past. So all sad days are like some fruit that when the outer skin is bitten, first tastes sour, but then sweeter tastes within.