Inspired by Breton's Surrealist Manifesto, I undertook (beginning on November 27, 1974 and ending on April 19, 1975) a sequence of fifty "sittings" or mental excursions during which I would write automatically all that passed through my thoughts in self-assembling chains of free association.
Just twenty years old at the conclusion of the experiment, I was only a naif, full of pretense, regarding understanding any of the deep meanings of life. And yet, the exercise yielded brief glimpses here and there of transcendent truth and beauty. Love, mortality and immortality, isolation and infinite union seem to be the keys to which the music of my mind was tuned; and often the musings soared with lovely harmonies free of discordant strains.
I offer here the "Thirty-ninth Sitting" from Sojourn In The Broken Bounds
Were you bathed around when the passion had arrived; to mellow in the basic cult; assent to lore yet grown upon pinnacles, bared love, angel's breath combined with hearts, sanguine; born between?
You were before assured of this, nor would toil boundless destroy; here chained, but not detained, the presence we had sought: the ocean pacified in souls; addition culled beyond facades; survivor, infant, fated to mature.
Illusions combined are likely to become facing beauty; naked; known to occur within the book of feared-no-more; moods revealing truth in discourse; ice melting when warmth approached unbarred -- just as we cannot refuse to choose directions we would follow first of all.
All that is said never rivals what is felt; barely illuminating desires beyond admission in efforts nurtured upon need; the awe that in the infinitude of time two should meet in union formed amorous, or sense want in journey through their lives: undamaged want of having each...
Born light -- so changed that still remained -- a vessel compelled to find home port; forgotten journey in elation of return; accolades dismissed for purer tribute chanced; consumed by one I don't disdain to feed as ever in my thought your tide arrives and reaches land too final to be lost.
This promised, we agree, fulfilled; all done before but part of all to come; like classic myth of love resumed; its source in turn unchallenged morn or eve; serene separate mountains there entwined: harmony integral with essence; woven love cradled deep in us.
No comments:
Post a Comment