reweaving threads unweaving – with apologies to robert okaji

there is a cruelty to it*

(to the Muse of muses and her shadows)

“The life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”

-Thomas Hobbes


we are born to strive to understand

without understanding the struggle


there is a majesty to it


we are born to seek a beloved

without a beloved to love


there is a cruelty to it


a ten thousand faceted harshness

keener than a sacred warrior’s blade


there is a majesty to it


a starry brilliance awaiting birth

hidden within the hart of darkness


there is a brutality to it


a compelling darkness arising

forcing us to seek without knowing


there is a majesty to it


a kaleidoscopic transcendence

a blissful danse so mysterious


there is a cruelty to it


love’s danse through brilliant complexity

compelling a brutal symmetry


is there not a majesty to it


can we not resist love’s cruelty

nor deny our love’s brutality


are we born of love to die for love


the consonance of gentle midnight

with the dissonance of high noon


to die for love are we not born of love


amidst dawn’s sapphire fluidity

embracing dusk’s amethyst finality


is it there beloved that we are yours


is there not a dignity to it

chaos integrally embracing order

is there not a finality to it


or is it here my love that you are ours


as you are not there so are we not here

sweeter rebirth dansing with bitter death

within the far edge of swirling stardust


must we always my love arise again is


there so little charity within our hart of harts

chrétien marc valentin

(© 2 août 2014)


*the unpublished first draft of this poem was first composed in 2005

This entry was posted in Poetry, The Living Logos, The Path of the Sacred Warrior and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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