Always present, always changing.
Soaring, floating, falling, enshrouding - sometimes.
Weighing on your peace, and squeezing expression
Supporting; lifting a face so that it can bear up new
Descending in rapids, uncontrolled...
Given names, crude names
Inadequate at best.
Who could describe in one word, the soul's expression?
Music, Paintings - even Poetry, try.
I can not define: this is merely my translation
of what I feel.
`Stress', `Hate', `Love'
Collections of disordered feelings,
taking the mind into clouded places,
Visited before, but always wholly new,
Heard of before, yet always yours alone,
`Depression', `Joy', ...
Does one word sum up life?
Can you live more in a moment than in 100 years?
Perhaps if the right word was found...
"But" one argues, "it has not been found - not yet".
Trying to order emotions,
That lie - docile angels
Then rise and boil, and after living thus
stirring the soul thus, disturbing peace thus
settles again, and is gone.
And the Body is "okay" again.
Okay because it doesn't feel,
(or at least, feels nothing in particular).
And someone asks; and you reply,
But what of the moments when, on asked, you hesitate
And feel inside you - and around you - those waves
Moving a little in their slumber to remind you of
You swallow, and ignore, and seek to say,
For isn't that better, after all, than unexpressable
joy or uncontrolled sadness?
Just being "okay", in control, a definable emotion -
... a lack of emotion.
The soul's stirring, even in the depths of despair,
should be esteemed.
Oh! If life were only to be lived - to be experienced!
and not to be done, to be hurried...to be won.
If we had only to lie and focus on one sensation ...
and then all sensations!
Being swung about in the vastness,
Feeling merit in both pleasure and pain.
No. Emotion must be controlled and stamped out, so
that life can be successfully lived without that
Yet I cannot control my own feelings.
And words; `Sad', `Angry', `Hurt',
do not embosom the meaning
of my moods
So I am outcast from my fellow beings.
Unstable because I feel.
And finding no end to hurry to
No living that needs to be done.
And I write.