Monday, October 4, 2010

What greater illusion


What greater illusion than life itself, other than the absence of it? Kicking through the leaves, a god, grown weary, might wonder the same thing. In the void, defined as sleep by some, and as emptiness by others — as if emptiness were a song comprised of one infinite black note and sleep were a place to which we might safely, predictably
return — or likened to oblivion, or death, oblivion a form of grief too vast and deep to discern, an ocean in an eye, death one last confession between hand and glove — there is nothing yet ordained, no word spoken or left unsaid, not the ghost of a syllable or haunted breath, and this too is illusion, a fist or palm unwilling to exist, the wars of entire histories neither waged nor imagined, antiquity, Babel, virtue, sound, legions of unborn slaves and scribes, until a sigh, arriving like wind through a frozen sky, born of direction henceforth circumscribed, a ripple in the mind of time, an urge to name that justifies cause, face against glass proclaiming self to self, effusion of stars to sudden stone, laughter down to the last good oar, down to the weight around your neck, contrives to remind you that you are here.


Update:
“What greater illusion” added to Poems, Slightly Used.

13 comments:

Two Tigers said...

A solid vital bit of writing, my friend. This refreshes me on a cold gray morning in ways that sleep and coffee have sadly failed. Now I can truly begin the day.

William Michaelian said...

I hope it’s a good one, Gabriella. You’ve certainly added fuel to mine.

nouvelles couleurs - vienna atelier said...

...
it is such a great emotion to read what you write, this is perfect to describe lot of feeling, of live

great William

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Laura. I’ve missed you while you were away. I hope you had a good trip.

nouvelles couleurs - vienna atelier said...

I miss you and all blog-friend too...

Anthony Duce said...

A very good read. I do enjoy the many illusions, the places, and images expressed in where you took me with this. Now I’m exhausted and the spinning won’t stop…. I’ll have to read it slower, and a couple of more times…. Thanks

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Anthony. I tried that myself. I assure you, there’s no hope.

Wine and Words said...

Very glass half full, that the weight around my neck serves to remind me of life itself....another day above ground.

William Michaelian said...

Yes, I thought it would be nice to write something cheerful for a change....

martinealison said...

Un bon verre de vin vous ramène à la vie... tout comme la chaleur du soleil sur la peau et c'est bon !

William Michaelian said...

Words, wine, and sun... exactly what we need...

Alberto Oliver said...

What a greater illusion, indeed, William. As great as that of believing in be able to found something worth the word "absolute" since nothing until now has been, neither the true nor the lie. And this lines of you, as clear or more as the sharpest image, make me think of that dark dream the afterlife could be, if we believe our imagination and prejudices. And while walking through that surface with no edges, looking after that promised being of absolute wisdom, only to find the most absolut emptyness and realize, that i am the only inhabitant of that thing called universe, with all its delights and deceits.
Regards my friend
and despite what Bobby Darin said, i think i can´t stop sailing, at least within my mind ;)

William Michaelian said...

Yes, good old Bobby, the smooth man of the little big band. I think he’s still sailing too. And judging by your words, your sail is colorful and bright, and you have a good strong ship.