Mourning

“The dark eagles, sleep and death,

Rustle all night around my head:

The golden statue of man

Is swallowed by the icy comber

Of eternity. On the frightening reef

The purple remains go to pieces,

And the dark voice mourns

Over the sea.

Sister in my wild despair

Look, a precarious skiff is sinking

Under the stars,

The face of night whose voice is fading.”

Georg Trakl.

Translated by Robert Bly; The Winged Energy of Delight.

Spiritual Bypassing

How we choose to carve each other up
Using words as blunt machetes
Hacking away at emotional limbs
Like mature trees obstructing electrical pylons
Whose roots dig deep into fertile ground
We replace authentic light with manufactured
Wrapping ourselves in passive aggressive guises
In the name of self-improvement
All the while spiritually bypassing our own wounds.

Spiritual Bypassing

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