Tags
2016, 6*, ageing, avidhya, Granada, identity, life, nerve, opaque, realisation, self, self-compassion, sense of self, the Three Poisons
I have a self
it is my self
a little capsule
grown in life –
whenever I noticed
every time I didn’t
each time I wouldn’t
a sliver at first
twisted once
but never looped
back to feed,
no helix to hold,
just one, open, nerve,
preserved in cartilage
opaque: hit it
you bounce, cut it
you slip, ignore it
it withers leaving
a baggy sheath
time now, quickly,
to make amends
time now
to connect the ends
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
life & realisation wormhole: moment
identity wormhole: new-found love – poewieview #36
mlewisredford 
A little gem…I think this is going in the book? It’s rhythm has a whiff of adult wonder.
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thank you, interesting – it took absolute ages getting this one onto the page, line by straining line; I was quite surprised it ended up with a rhythm at all
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Completion and connection: two of the hardest, unavoidable tasks we face as we grow old(er)…. and much as I enjoyed the poem, it did riff on that open nerve.
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… now, there’s a branch to the contemplation: one’s life [one’s self] as interminable riff desperately seeking verse (with only half a chorus on its headstone)
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“To suspect your own mortality is to know the beginning of terror, to learn irrefutably that you are mortal is to know the end of terror.” – Frank Herbert
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ah, yes; to sleep with a skull in your head …
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