Photo by Thomas Kelley on Unsplash
We were never born to become Gods.
To live mortally is to trek
fully the range of dual
expression; I would have
dissolved existence
inhabiting
only the
bliss of
you.
We were never born to become Gods.
To live mortally is to trek
fully the range of dual
expression; I would have
dissolved existence
inhabiting
only the
bliss of
you.
Comments (6)
Gorgeous poem!!
I know that often our experience of art says more about ourselves than the artist who created it, but this poem feels as powerful as a tempest and fragile as the wilted petals on a rose. The speaker in your piece is so tragically drawn, so willing to efface herself and all the world for the one she will lose no matter her sacrifice, that it’s impossible to regard her lover as anything other than a selfish monster. I use ‘her’ and ‘she’ because I have never known a man who would worship and serve another the way your narrator does. But I have known many women who have, to include a treasured grandmother. Not saying men like that don’t exist, but I am suggesting that they are the exception. Loved the lyricism and power in this, Morgana! Your finale is as beautiful and tragic as if penned by the Bard and your description of the mortal life as a trek along the full and dual range of expression is both witty and wise. Please feel free to tell me my analysis is off by a country mile!
OK... Morgana.. you crumpled me in 9 decreasing lines. That is some going! "Dissolved existence" what an amazing expression! Wonderful ❤️
Ooh! This has a subtle wistfulness that’s really divine! Great nonet, Morgana!
When it’s over.
FFS. Morgana. Crikey. This...is...fuck...ing...fantastic! So much to love in this. May be too early to say - but a contender! Top Story, for sure!