Notes on the Physiology of Art
I have often wondered why it is I seem to write my best poetry when I am feeling low, heading nowhere, and life a burden.
For many years, I have suspected that the deeper into nowhere we go, the stronger the human spirit’s anticipation of finally getting somewhere comes into play; to this purpose, we may yet be close to if not at our best, albeit unknowingly, just for encouraging the human mind to shed its load and travel light - until the next time we enter into the realms of what invariably goes by the name of 'inspiration' for want of a more detailed, personal explanation...
This poem is a kenning.
NOTES ON THE PHYSIOLOGY OF ART
No burden on my back,
heart lighter for the notes
of a love song
embracing a friendly darkness
like a falcon’s feathers
before unhooded and set free,
imaging winged grace,
challenging infinite space
in your place
The thrill of uncertainty,
potential for an epiphany
on the inner eye
cause and effect ever on call
(metaphor for the soul?)
pointing to forfeit and reward,
endgame, peace,
once time ready to yield up
its secrets
Mind, emptied of desire,
body, exhilarating in flight
from temporality,
vulnerable to a spirituality
custom made
to nature’s specifications,
shaped and reworked
by humanity’s native genius
for anticipation
Find me, art's eternal poetry,
flying in the face of mortality
Copyright R. N. Taber 2015
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