Filament

Life is not the sum of our parts
In death we still have our brain, our heart
Nay, tis a hallowed, scarlet, filament
that consumes our life
It glows with use, with effort, with strife

For good or ill it burns away
In use or disuse it approaches decay
All have a measure of this pow'r
Nothing delays the inevitable hour

Waste not your time O man,
to meditate on a mountaintop
Tarry not with lore of karmic harmony,
crystal orbs or ink blots

Life is no wheel, 'tis a spiral
Numbered are your days, finite, final
Simply live with honor, not by morals from rote
Powered by your heart's filament 'neath your undercoat

Keats
29 October 2010

Adamantine

Here I am in the dark, unseen
I, myself am dark, of rotten composition,
Cannot tell which way is up
Unknown is my position

Deep, dark, deposited, down
Burried beneath bedrock bunkers
Pressed—pressures piling
Waiting, wondering, when will wasting wane?

Futher pressing, crushing constricting
Finding no line to traverse
But into my universe
No way out but in
Turning squeezing, turning changing
From coal to crystalline
Brittle to adamantine

Born of tribulation
Son of adversity
Conceived while rotten
(Brittle black)
Born non-living, hard
Sparkling
Adamantine

Remnants of life
Further killed
Crushed to indestructibility
Adamantine

Inflexible, unbending
Obdurate, adamant
Undaunting
Coldness and lifeless
Haunting

Born from death
Thing of no breath
Thing of beauty (eerie)
Personification of dead immortality

False immortality
Preserved in death
Suspended animation
Life and death in contention

But nothing endures forever
The horizon can be reached
Wine ceases improving
Quality declines
Remains rot
Fire burns away
Metal tarnishes or gathers rust
Adamantine cleaves and turns to dust

(Kedge) Keats
2 Jan 1999