|+ "a citadel of words without windows"|
Anca Anghel Novac
|"what if life|
is just an impotent loop"
It might be, it might be...
Actually it is.
Nice to see you or to read you again.
| = dominique|
|thanks, dominique, nice to see you too :)|
| = life streams & Karma|
|"the what of karma" could be mitigated by the "law of grace" which, for me, involves both a state of mind and a gift from God throughout which the objective of the individuality's journey into the lower worlds to gain knowledge can be the pure and simple representation of those symbolic effects that may subdue life allowing one to enter the highest sphere pervading the inner dimensions unlike a strictly mechanical universe. "Life" is nothing else but an "impotent loop", a "greedy vortex" condensed in predetermined actions, all leading to a completely unavoidable framelike state of desertedness, a blind curve, a windowless citadel of words. Can there also be implied "the window of the eyes" as a kind of sustitute to refocusing the sense of time by means of (non)intuitional awareness?|
| = Corina|
|language is just a window unto itself, an endless monologue, much like life... this poem, itself spinning somewhere in that vortex, cannot evade its power but might act like a buoy for those further up the stream :)|
thanks for your visit and very insightful comment, Corina
| = From a face in the crowd into a face for the crowd :)|
|"echoes choking on syllables" - speechless. Wow, I noticed you wrote so few in English, but until now, I enjoyed. The poem is well structured, it's like an expose, with introduction, sounding like a wondering yet rhetorical question, then is the description and finally the conclusion. Though this would seem common, the poem turns this commonness into something veeeery uncommon and beautiful. Good work|
| = Diana|
|sorry i've noticed your comment so late, Diana, thanks for your visit and kind words|
| = wonderful|
|In my opinion life is nothing more than making memories and reliving them when we are bored or down. Some memories are exciting and addictive and some are knives planted deep in one’s heart. In the end we are building „karma” merely by accident, repeating what we like and fearing what made us feel bad. What is good or bad, what makes us grow, these are just “accidental” consequences of the actions we take accordingly to our memories. More so, I believe that the “city” is in fact abandoned when we are alone, when no one else shares those memories with us no more.|
This is a story this poem whispered to me and for me it’s just wonderful, a trip inside my brain and by the time I will finish this comment I’ll be wandering in my own memories.
Kind regards, Ioana D.
|+ The only reason...|
John Willy Kopperud
|...why I don't place this poem on the "recommended reading" list is it's being originally published on this site more than four years ago. It strikes me that you manage to say a lot about karma and write a beautiful poem in a forthright and simple way. If not a red one, I sincerely hope that a yellow one will do and I regret not having read this before.|
Cheers from Willy
| = ioana, Willy|
|thank you guys, just noticed the comments. |
happy new year and all the best to you too!
| = like an empyrean!|
|your poem has its natural way of shining- you seem to core out and fill up the meanings' sheath at the same time, still remaining minimalist. congratulations.|