The Artisan's Throne

I think that just beyond the deepest point

Our souls can reach, 

There lies the place where 

Our children wait to incarnate,

 

And in the darkness, 

 

Actuated through voluminous walls of air,

Gravity sucks them into it's vacuum,

They enter into slimy saturation, 

And flesh and bone begins 

To imbue their being.

 

They permeate this budding existence 

Without defense, or knowledge,

Propelled by the force they left, 

Where they circled in space,

For thousands of Earth years.

 

Now a human, living love essence,

Bound to slice the charred debris

Of our sometimes too well thought out plans,

A step ahead of us they plow their way

To mold us, sometimes scold us, 

Scar and control us.

 

As they journey to become born, 

While seeds of this innate knowing

Burrow deep within their subconscious,

Our eyes, gazing upon the miracle of birth itself,

Project us into blissful delight at their presence,

 

Comforting us as we spar with the hand of mortality,

 

Reminding us in our deepest repression,

The space from which we came,

Taunting our moment of utter euphoria,

A subtle elusive gnawing query, 

Starved, by and through our own ignorance 

And trepidation of who we are.

 

So our retort to this vexatious notion 

Becomes an obsessive adoration 

Of these fleshy creations which do not even belong to us,

 

They are the squires of our purpose,

 

Like projectile bits of sawdust and splintered wood

From a carpenter's saw,

Remnants of the artisan's aspirations,

And humanity's desperation to fullfill the promise of 

A life well lived.

 

I used to love to watch my grandfather in his basement,

Carving fine artistry from rough edged pieces of wood,

As I rocked in the small rocking chair he made for myself,

My siblings and cousins, each taking our turns,

At the artisan's throne.

 

 

 

 

1:47 AM 6/25/2013 © 

 

 

 

 

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Author's Notes/Comments: 

A human experience

SSmoothie's picture

Wow! Awesome work, the

Wow! Awesome work, the artistry in your words so profoundly strong and haunting! Awesome ideas and very well presented!  Love the journey through the soul mill to the artisan carving... Just wonderful! Hugss 


Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS    

"Well, it's life SIMS, but not as we know it" - ¡$&am

nightlight1220's picture

That gets a 'wow'...

...back at 'cha, as I so respect your critique, SSmoothie. Thanks for reading. <3 

 

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...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "